The Ways of a Dragon
by planless
Summary: The first time Thranduil entered the mountain, he felt nothing but surprise and shock. The second time he entered the mountain, he almost lost his life. The third time something changed. And from there on, a strange kind of friendship bloomed. [On Hiatus]
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

Thranduil picks up the goblet of wine sitting on the heavy oak desk in front of him, and remembers. He remembers better times, brighter smiles, and lighter wits. He remembers the happiness, the cheerful laughter, the trilling songs. Pictures of quiet nights in front of a crackling fire under a sky filled with stars, soft embraces, and mock tournaments seem to dance in the shadowy corners of his study. The sigh that escapes his lips just before he takes a small sip conveys a deep-seated longing for those days that have come and gone so long ago.

And then the Elven King, very consciously, recalls everything else. From the very depths of his mind he pulls forth the memories that have been lying dormant for years, buried under layers of hurt and denial, tucked away safely to keep his battered spirit intact.

But he has healed over the course of the years, a slow but steady progress, and tonight he has realised that it is finally time to let go.

The moment has come to face the bane that is his long memory one final time. And then it will be time to let everything pass, let it fade into the past where it belongs, together with the rest of his life. Because no matter how much he wishes, he can't change what has happened, so he has decided to finally put it aside tonight. He has something to look forward to, a life where the ghosts of his past have no place.

After one last, final sip Thranduil sets down the goblet, rises from his chair, and in the light of the dying embers moves through his study. The heavy door opens with a small creak into a gap just large enough for the elf to slip through.

His feet fall silently as he follows the corridor down to a door at its very end that is different from the others. Against the dark brown of the hallways that is ever-present in the vast elven palace, the light wood builds a stark contrast. Just as what is behind it is different from the other elves that live with the king. _Bright and innocent_, Thranduil thinks and lifts one hand to knock. _Happy._

His knuckles connect with the wood and almost immediately a young voice calls out, "Come in!"

Thranduil enters, then smiles softly when his son's expression instantly turns into worry upon seeing him. "Still awake?"

"Father?" Legolas asks and sits up in bed. "What are you doing here?"

Delicately, the Elven King picks his way through the mess that is his son's room. Elegantly carved toys are strewn about everywhere, priceless books are stacked haphazardly in seemingly random places, some of the piles toppled over.

"I could ask you the same question," Thranduil retorts and looks at his son. "What on earth have you been doing in here?"

When Legolas blushes and averts his face the answer is painfully clear to Thranduil. Carefully he sits down on the edge of the mattress, folds his hands in his lap and cocks his head ever so slightly.

"You have been playing war again," he states softly. He waits for a moment but when his son fails to react he gives a small nod that isn't directed at Legolas. "Well, I have a story that might change your mind about a lot of things." The young elf that is almost like a small version of himself looks up.

"This late?" he asks, doubt apparent in his voice. Thranduil raises one eyebrow . "Do you have more important matters to attend to?" Legolas shakes his head and pulls his knees close to his chest. "Not really," he admits. "What's the story about?" His father smiles at him, then takes a moment to compose himself.

"It is about a young elf who becomes friends with the most unlikely of creatures," he begins slowly, trying to find the correct words to convey the importance of what he is about to say. "It is about a prince and a queen who is not really a queen, but at the same time is, too, in her own stubborn way. I sincerely hope you understand what I am about to tell you, Legolas. Whatever it is, don't let it scare you. Let it touch you, maybe change you, but don't be afraid."

Legolas furrows his brow. "Why would I be afraid?" he asks, confused.

"Because," Thranduil answers quietly, "I will tell you about war and peace and hate. I will talk of love and loss, of intrigue and friendship, of death and rebi-" He stops, then smiles a strained smile. "I believe it will be best you see for yourself what this story is about. To give you a rough idea, my son: this is the tale of how a young elven prince, bright and happy and full of life, came to be."

Legolas who had been listening intently up until now frowned. "What do you mean, 'how he came to be'? He was born. Simple as that."

"Yes and no," Thranduil retorted gently. "That is what happened, but there is more to it. So much more.

And thus, he began his tale.

* * *

_Cheerio, people! _

_Guess what. I AM BACK. A big round of applause to me._

_As you can see (at least those of you who aren't new to this story), I am changing a lot. Scotland has given me some perspective and so I'm having another go at this story. I didn't like the point where I left off and I don't really appreciate the way I built this whole thing up. I've picked up some things while being away so this time I'm going for something a little bit different. _

_The basic idea is still very much the same (I changed the ending, though), but basically I edited everything surrounding it. I like the new version so much better and hope you do, too!_

_How did you like this prologue? I know, it isn't much, but it holds some important clues as to what happens later in the story, so come back to it once we're at that point (trust me, you will know when) to try and figure out what's gonna happen._

_I really like theories, so I'll be happy to read your thoughts on where I could be going with this if you feel like sharing!_

_Hope you had a nice weekend, and I'll try to update weekly from now on._

_Love,_

_planless_


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

* * *

_"I orod adnalla."_

_The mountain calls again._

Thranduil inclined his head, indicating he was listening. Oropher turned around to face his son, a look of concern on his timeless face.

"Thranduil", he addressed the young prince who in turn straightened up to look him in the eye. "I need you to go and find the source of its unrest."

The blond elf nodded once again, this time to show he understood.

"You will leave immediately."

This took him by surprise. "Why so soon? The signs have been showing for some time now. Surely it is safe enough to wait until daybreak at least."

Oropher shook his head, his dark blue eyes clouded with worry.

"I feel we have waited for too long already. Leave this very hour, _ion nîn_. By now surely everything has been readied for your departure."

Thranduil hesitated for a short moment, wondering what it was that disturbed his father so greatly, but at last decided it would be best to heed his wishes. Oropher was a wise king and so far had ruled the elves of Greenwood with strength and foresight, leading them to prosperity and wealth.

"_Heniannen, adar. _I will be on my way then."

"Be careful, my son", Oropher murmured. "We don't know what the Black Mountains hold in store for you."

Bowing once, right hand resting upon his heart, Thranduil turned and left the room. He strode down darkened corridors at a smart pace, the determined clicking of his heels on the wooden floor the only sound in the otherwise silent elven palace.

Midnight had only passed and few were up at this hour. Except for the guards, most of them were asleep and right to do so.

When he entered his quarters, Thranduil immediately shed his dress robes and moved swiftly to the other end of the room. Pulling aside a heavy, blue curtain he revealed two sets of armour.

One was light, held in earthy browns and greens, and made up entirely out of soft leather and heavy cloth.

The other one was heavier, forged of mainly copper, treated in a special way to make it more durable, with artfully arranged insets of silver that seemed to glow with an inner fire in the light of the dying embers. It was an armour fit for a prince. It would protect, and it would also help to distinguish him from the other Woodland elves while at the same time marking him as one of them. Thranduil frowned softly. He would need it eventually.

After changing into a soft tunic of dark blue colour and comfortable trousers Thranduil started donning the lighter suit of armour, piece by piece. It didn't take long. After a few short moments that conveyed nothing but expertise - really, by now putting on his hunting gear came as easy to Thranduil as lifting a bucket of water - the last strap was pulled tight, the final buckle secured. Rolling his shoulders to get everything to sit correctly Thranduil took a couple of experimental steps. The soft leather made no noise, none of the softly creaking sounds leather is known to make.

Satisfied, Thranduil reached up to a shelf above the armour racks and pulled down his gear. With nimble fingers he fastened a set of daggers to his belt, followed by a pair of twin-swords. He slung a quiver full of white feathered arrows over his shoulder, secured his bow and left his quarters without looking back.

Finding his way through the labyrinthine halls of the palace he passed his father's rooms. For a moment he contemplated bidding a final farewell, but in the end decided against it. Oropher would want him to depart as soon as possible.

So he strode on, passing only a few guards as he headed for the southern stables. From there, he would be allowed quick access to the forest. The elves he met bowed respectfully and he nodded at them curtly, but not unfriendly.

He arrived at the stables in mere minutes and soon found a young elf who held a prancing stallion at his reins. It shook its head, every muscle beneath the softly shining hide shaking with suppressed power. Thranduil couldn't help but smile at the sight. His horse wanted to run.

Approaching the ostler he took in the bags strapped to either side of the saddle, as well as a pair of blankets rolled up behind it.

"Is everything ready?", he asked the young woman and, without bothering to greet her properly, took the rein from her hands. The stallion rose on his hind legs, but Thranduil had him back under control quickly.

Muttering a few words in an attempt to soothe the horse enough for it to stand still, he threw the elf a questioning look. Sirhael, who after years upon years of working in the stables was long used to the prince's somewhat brisk behaviour, merely nodded.

"Lord Thranduil," she said as a way of greeting, adopting his crisp tone. "There are travelling rations up to ten days packed in your bags, as well as some medicine – just as a precaution", she hastened to add when he scowled lightly.

"Mainly Athelas. Also bandages, both full and empty water skins, as well as flint stones and tinder."

Stepping back she bowed to him once he had mounted his horse. It rose lightly before stomping its feet on the ground hardly.

"Travel safe, _hîr nîn, _and may your mount run swift."

Feeling somewhat playful at the thought of the ride ahead, Thranduil waved his hand dismissively. "You know he does," he declared haughtily, then looked the young woman in the eye and smiled.

"Thank you, Sirhael." The elf shot him a cheeky grin and patted his mount's neck. "I'm glad to be of service, my friend."

Lifting one hand in a final farewell, Thranduil led the stallion out of the stable, over the open place that stretched in front of it and towards the closed gates. He could feel the horse chewing the bit and tightened his hold on the reins as it strode forward, clearly upset by his choice of pace.

The guards recognised him easily and opened the gates through which he directed his mount swiftly.

Only when they entered the forest did he give free rein to the horse and it shot forward, not unlike an arrow fired from a bow.

* * *

Heavy hooves thundered along the well-worn path leading north, deeper into the forest. If they kept going at this pace they would reach the mountains less than six hours.

Thranduil waited until, after an hour or so, felt the stallion had spent most of its pent up energy, then reduced the wild gallop to a swift trot.

Foam dripped from the animal's muzzle to the ground and sweat soaked its heaving flanks. It was easier to ride, now that it had been able to run, and even let out a friendly snort when Thranduil patted its neck.

The hours passed by in silence and when the sun rose over the tree tops, Thranduil brought his mount to a halt on a small clearing near the path. The ground was covered in moss and grass, and a small creek slunk along its outline. He slid out the saddle, opened one of the bags strapped to it and rummaged through its content until, finally, he found one of the water skins.

Taking with him a piece of Lembas, he retreated to a tree with low hanging branches and settled himself on the lowest, watching his horse.

The stallion stretched its big head forward and made a sound that came close to a sigh. The soft ears were turning attentively as it followed the happy gurgling of the stream.

As Thranduil had his meagre breakfast, he thought back to the first time he had lain eyes on the animal, and smiled. Somehow, he had known the scrawny colt, tiny and weak from being born premature, would grown into a wonderful horse. It was the reason Sirhael and he had decided to call him Tûr. _Strength_.

After a while of watching the stallion nose around in the soft grass by the creak, Thranduil hopped onto the ground and offered him a piece of Lembas.

"We always believed you would make it", he told him, combing the white mane with his fingers, carefully undoing some knots. Tûr huffed before turning his head to look at him.

Thranduil smiled lightly. "And now you're the very best."

* * *

They reached the Black Mountains shortly after noon on the third day. The journey had been pleasant so far which was why the change of atmosphere was all the more obvious. The constant chirping of birds, invisible in the thick canopy, had stopped a while back, leaving the forest wrapped in an eery silence; there was no breeze to stir the leaves high above, yet the air carried a weird scent with it, so faint it took the elf a moment to identify it.

_Ash._

Looking around carefully Thranduil urged Tûr forward at a slow pace. After directing his horse around a large boulder protruding from the earth like a giant nose, he couldn't help the surprised gasp that escaped him when he spotted the first burned trees.

Where bark and wood had not burned to dust they were blackened and dead, instilling a dark sense of foreboding in his heart.

Tûr shook his head nervously and stood, refusing to take one more step. Frowning, Thranduil dismounted.

His feet stirred up little clouds of ashes when he landed on the soft ground.

Pushing back his own agitation, the elf took his horse by the reins and led it forward. Tûr refused to move at first but eventually gave in and followed Thranduil's lead.

The farther they went the more fallen trees they saw. Some looked as if they had been toppled by storm while others were downright split from crown to root. It didn't take long until the came across the first dead animal - a doe, the once graceful body half scorched. Flies had already settled on it, crawling over lifeless eyes that stared blindly into nothingness. Trying to control the queasy sensation that had settled in his stomach, Thranduil pulled Tûr away from the carcass.

Next, they found a massive stag whose body had been mainly untouched by fire and yet to Thranduil it was somehow even more disturbing than the doe he had seen mere minutes ago. Dangling from the low branches of a halfway toppled beech, its neck and limbs looked weirdly twisted, bent into wrong directions at awkward angles. The sight of the broken body made Thranduil feel sick.

When they passed the remainders of what once had been a massive oak, now crushed and splintered like the shell of a cracked nut, something scrunched under his boot. Frowning, the elf knelt down to investigate. After poking around the ashes for a moment his fingers met with something cool and hard.

He picked it up, halfway expecting it to be bones, but what he found instead took him by surprise. It looked almost like a disc, albeit more oval in shape, roughly the size of his palm, its smooth surface smeared with a thick layer of soot.

"A scale," he murmured, amazed. "Where did -" He stopped when he realised what exactly this meant and suddenly, leaving Amon Lanc on his own seemed like a very foolish idea to him.

"Well, the way it looks we are dealing with a very big lizard," he told Tûr, choking back his nervousness. Muttering under his breath, he added, "In the best case."

Once again he climbed into the saddle and urged Tûr forward; this time, the horse obeyed.

They passed through what was left of the woods, the trees that were left standing declining in frequency with every mile they covered. The sun shone brightly through the newly thinned canopy and painted merry pictures on the ground which was covered by a fine grey layer of ash. When Thranduil finally reached the Mountains of Greenwood a few hours past midday, he brought Tûr to a halt and looked around with wide eyes.

Within half a mile, there was no tree to be found. No bushes, flowers, not even the tiniest blade of grass. The whole area looked as if it had been drained of colour and nothing was left of the woods that had once been bustling with life.

Like a giant scar the burned area cut through the forest, pointing in the direction of the highest mountain.

Unable to wrap his head around what he was seeing, all Thranduil could do was stare. There was no reasonable explanation for what had transpired here. How could something like this have happened? The whole swath hadn't just burned down, it had been obliterated.

"I've never heard of a fire-breathing lizard," he mumbled to himself, trying to ignore the inevitable truth of what would be waiting for him on top of the mountain ridge. It was starting to become painfully clear to him what exactly had come to haunt the Greenwood, and he didn't like it, not one bit.

Feeling a headache starting to build, Thranduil left his horse and covered the last yards to the base of the hills on foot. Every step he took felt unbelievably stupid to him and if he was being honest all he wanted right now was a goblet of the strongest wine he could possibly get his hands on, but he had to do this. He had to make sure this was not as he feared it might be.

* * *

The gentle slope stretching in front of him was dark and bare, a stark contrast to the adjoining hills that were covered in lone trees and shrubbery.

His feet were light as he quickly made his way upwards without a sound, raising little clouds of ash with every step.

As Thranduil rose above the trees, the stench of fire and burned flesh grew more intense.

Some way back he had found something alarming beyond belief: claw marks. Huge, deep furrows as long as his forearm served to mark a path that led up the mountain slope. Sanding marks littered the ground, as if something that was very, very huge and heavy had been dragged over the stony ground, reducing the smaller rocks to mere gravel.

Heart pounding in his chest Thranduil followed the trail further until it suddenly gave way to a wide gap - one that, to him, seemed entirely unnatural, and opened into a dark, deep tunnel.

The rocky edges surrounding the opening were partially abraded and smeared with ashes, deep scratches littered the mouth of the cave. The stone walls of the adjoining tunnel seemed to have molten in the fury of the fire unleashed on them for there were no rough edges; only smooth, slightly uneven granite.

Thranduil strained his ears but could catch no sound. Drawing one of his swords, he gripped the hilt tightly and entered the cave, ever so careful as to not make a noise.

Quiet as a mouse he crept down the tunnel, grateful his elven sight allowed him to see even in the dark. After a few minutes he picked up a light sound that grew louder the further he advanced, almost like huge bellows.

The elf hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath before slowly turning the last corner.

A gush of hot air blew back his hair and his eyes widened in disbelief.

Right in front of him, humongous body curled up tightly, lay a dragon, its burning red eyes fixed on him.

Thranduil froze.

* * *

_Hey there, everyone! _

_Here I am with the newest chapter in tow. As you can see, it is mainly a reworked version of the original chapter. The more obvious changes to storyline and setup are going to become apparent in Chapter 2._

_I hope you liked this! _

_Here's a list of what I changed, in case you're interested:_

_\- The Elves now live in Amon Lanc, also known as Dol Guldur. Through the research I did while in Scotland (and which I really should have done before typing even the first sentence of this story), I found out that Dol Guldur (back in the day called Amon Lanc) is an abandoned Elven palace (City?) in which Oropher and his Elves lived. After a shadow (coughcoughSauroncough) fell on the Greenwood in the Third Age, Thranduil led his people north over the river and they built (?) Limrond, where they live now. Tadaaa! Also, no spiders in the green version of Mirkwood._

_\- Thranduil doesn't name Tûr. I realised quite a while back that this was a sore mistake on my part. The horse has been in the stables of Amon Lanc his whole life, how can it not have a name? Also, I decided to make it Thranduil's exclusively. No point in the prince of the Greenwood Elves not having his own horse, is there? Of course, it had to match in temperament *cough cough*, so I've made him a fiery, mainly impatient character :)_

_\- I gave the ostler a name! (I made it up randomly and on the spot but in hindsight I believe it was heavily influenced by The Witcher's 'Zirael'. Hm.) I really like her, and since she takes care of Thranduil's horse and as such is likely to see him pretty often, I've decided to make the two of them friends :) Every man needs a bit of a female presence in his life, I think. And since I didn't really want to go and include a gay elf, I've made Sirhael Thranduil's lady-friend!_

_\- Thranduil's armour. Because, seriously, no Woodland Elf would don metal armour for a scouting mission. They are agility and tree-hopping all the way, so leather and cloth is a much more sensible choice. Also, I completely fucked up the foreshadowing with that second suit of armour, but since y'all know that the Barad-dûr siege is well on its way, I don't care._

_\- I improved the Thranduil-Oropher relationship a little bit. During my first attempt at this story, someone pointed out to me they weren't at all happy with the father-son thing I had going on, what with Oropher being the wise king and all and Thranduil the rebellious teenager. So I decided to warm things up a bit between them. Because, really, they care deeply for each other. So no acting all coolly and put-outy any more. _

_\- I tried to get a bit more suspense in the sequence leading up to the dragon's discovery. I don't know if I went too over the top with it? Did I make Thranduil too emotional (a.k.a. scared) about this? Not emotional (a.k.a. scared) enough? Should I have added more or should I have left things out? I don't know! (I haven't heard back from my beta, so in blabbering on about everything down here I'm really just trying to beta myself. Answer my questions, please?)_

_\- Also, how is my comma placement? I am a sucker for commas, what with being German and all, and I never know where to put them and where to leave them. Seriously, you English people are so weird. I think I've figured out the Oxford comma thing ("We've invited the rhinoceri, Washington, and Lincoln." vs. "We've invited the rhinoceri, Washington and Lincoln."), but apart from that I just always take a hand full of commas from the jar I keep in my purse at all times and thrown them in randomly. _

_Aaall right, I think that's it so far. Do you have any more questions? Because I can't think of any._

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

_Love,_

_planless_


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

* * *

The beast was watching, observing. As was he.

It didn't move a muscle, and neither did Thranduil.

His usually quick mind was now empty, unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. He didn't know what to do.  
Under the steady gaze of the dragon he didn't dare move, not even breathe. His palms grew sweaty and cold, and his heart was beating painfully hard in his chest, so loud the monster was sure to hear it.

A vein on his temple started throbbing, and he felt the headache from earlier come back with full force. Every muscle in his body itched to run but he didn't even dare adjust the tight grip he held on his sword.

When several minutes had passed and the serpent had yet to move Thranduil took a careful step back. The dragon blinked.

When he took another step, it bared its teeth at him.

A deep, rumbling growl was all it took to send Thranduil running. He spun on his heel and sprinted down the hallway, so fast he lost his footing after the second turn. He stumbled, trying to catch his balance, but suddenly there was bright daylight and a rocky slope, and he fell, tumbling down the burned mountainside. The world blurred together in a swirl of colours and sharp pain, and it left his head spinning when he came to a halt halfway down the mountain after what felt like an eternity.

For a moment, he couldn't remember how to breathe. All he was able to do was lie in the dirt and stare at the blue sky above him. His fingers spasmed around the hilt of his sword - even in all the commotion he hadn't let go of it - and finally he was able to draw in a ragged breath that soon turned into a violent coughing fit.

Staggering to his feet, he whirled around, fully expecting to face the dragon. Instead, he only stared at the dark expanse of rock before him with not a soul to be seen.

* * *

The remainder of the hike down the mountain slope turned out to be a difficult affair for Thranduil. Judging from the sharp pain he felt flaring with every step he took, he had twisted his ankle at some point during his fall. When he reached the foot of the mountain with a limp and a split lip, covered in dirt and bruises, Thranduil came to halt next to Tûr and stood to take a deep breath and regain his composure.

Every inch of his body was throbbing with pain, and for a moment he couldn't think of anything. His head felt strangely dizzy. His thoughts seemed to be slipping away from him, a sure sign he had hit his head.

Tûr huffed quietly before turning his head and nosing him in the side, so hard the elf almost fell over.

"All right," he murmured in a tired voice. "We're going."

With a quiet groan, he heaved himself into the saddle and turned his horse around.

Giving the stallion free rein, he urged him forward in the sudden desire to escape the burned woods, despite the pain every ever so slight movement brought. He had to bring word to his father immediately.

* * *

"A dragon you say?" Oropher stared at his son in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"I am, father."

The king slowly sunk on a chair in front of the fire, cradling his chin in his hand.

"A dragon in Greenwood", he mused, eyes half lidded.

A short silence settled upon them until suddenly Oropher focused his gaze on his son.

"Its demeanour, what was it like?"

Thranduil hesitated before answering.

"It did not appear hostile to me, merely wary. It did not try to attack me."

"Would you think it sane?"

Taken by surprise, he pondered over this question for a moment before giving his answer.

"I do not know how to judge the sanity of a dragon. However, it seemed to be intelligent. In a cold and cruel way but intelligent nonetheless."

He shivered when he remembered the dragon's cold eyes.

The Elven King slowly nodded to himself, considering this piece of information. "So it can be reasoned with."

Thranduil stared at his father in horror."Surely you do not seek to negotiate with a dragon?" he asked.

"What other option is there?" Oropher answered, his voice strained. "It cannot remain here for the danger it poses is far too great."

"But there is nothing we can offer! How can you be so sure it will respect your wishes?"

Meeting his son's stormy gaze calmly, Oropher answered, "I can not be sure. The dragon might as well lash out at us if we were to pester it and destroy the entire kingdom."

"So let's just fight it", Thranduil offered, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. "Why risk the lives of our people if we could just end it?"

"Because there is still a chance it might cooperate. Should the dragon decide to turn against us we will have to fight either way. Perhaps we can solve this matter peacefully."

When his son looked at him in disbelief, Oropher smiled sadly.

"Thranduil", he said, rising from his chair and putting his hands on the younger elf's shoulders. "You have seen dragons before. You have lived through the battle with Morgoth's creatures and although you were young at that time I am sure you remember them. The death and destruction they leave in their wake seems to be a part of their nature. Their fiery breath, able to set on fire entire forests and light the darkness of the night."

He looked at his son sadly before stepping back.

"No, _ion nîn_. If there is so much as a chance the dragon will leave our realm peacefully we have to embrace it. I will send a mediator first thing in the morning. Whom would you suggest?"

Thranduil thought for a moment before he straightened and met his father's eyes evenly.

"Send me, your majesty."

His voice did not waver when he interrupted his father who was about to answer.

"I know where the dragon's lair is located. The abomination has already seen me once and refrained from ending me, it may do so a second time. Should you send other elves it might feel doubt it remembers me. I am much more likely to survive than any other elf you might send."

His words were met with silence, but Thranduil didn't have to ask his father's opinion. The pained look Oropher gave him was answer enough.

* * *

When Thranduil climbed the mountain for the second time three days later he did not bother to hide his presence. He wanted the dragon to know he was coming, that he did not pose a threat. It took him some effort due to his still-throbbing ankle, but due to the palace-healer's capable care most reaching the cave didn't really delay him.

He entered the mountain and strode down the tunnel, every sense on high alert. His nerves were tingling with fear and adrenaline, and he could feel his heart beating in his chest, a hard and fast rhythm.

Carefully he turned the last corner and took a few tentative steps into the cave before he halted all of a sudden, looking around searchingly.

It was empty.

Panic started pooling in his stomach and his thoughts were racing.

Had the dragon left? And if so, where had it gone?

A feeling of pure and utter dread washed over him at the thought of the animal ravaging the forest. He had to go back, he had to warn his father and save -

There was a soft sound, like wind gently brushing through leaves on a quiet summer day. Dust rained down on Thranduil and caused him to blink.

A gentle breeze of hot air swept over his shoulders and neck in a velvety caress, making his long hair sway lightly and his flesh crawl. It reeked of rotten meat and sulphur and could only mean one thing.

Whole body tensed up, Thranduil turned rigidly and was faced with two sets of ivory teeth. Ever so slowly, he stepped back, eyes wide.

Like a giant bat the dragon was clinging to the stone above where the tunnel opened into the cave, barely visible in the darkness, its body pressed to the rock walls in massive coils of muscle and scales, neck bent at an angle that should be virtually impossible.

Lowering its head further, the dragon growled softly, making Thranduil's skin crawl. It was staring at him with those cold red eyes, and then it made the elf's heart stop when it opened its jaws and spoke.

"You are **voth ahkrin**, very brave, to come here, **mal fahliil**." It shot Thranduil a measuring glance and bared its teeth. "Or perhaps just very stupid."

Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, Thranduil put a hand over his chest and bowed.

"_Mae govannen, amlug uanui._ I have come to speak to you."

The serpent lay its giant head onto the ground to bring their eyes on the same level. When it spoke again its deep voice was soft and smooth. It sounded utterly alluring to Thranduil and he was reminded of the hypnotic powers many dragons were said to possess.

"You smell... Pleasant."

In slow, fluid motions it climbed down the walls and started circling the elf who did not dare move. His eyes stayed transfixed on the snake-like body in front of him as he finally understood how big this dragon really was. It didn't have front legs, instead moving forward on the sharp claws protruding from the joints of its wings, while the massive hindlegs were packed with muscles. The mesmerising voice sounded again, this time from somewhere on his right.

"You are armed, **voth zahkrii ark ronaaz**, yet you seek to talk rather than to fight. **Zu hon**, little elf, I am listening."

Despite the confusion Thranduil felt at the dragon's use of a foreign language he squared his shoulders and, staring straight ahead, answered the unspoken question.

"I have come to you on behalf of my people, for they fear the greatness of your tremendous presence."

The dragon huffed and brought its head down in front of him.

"You call me _amlug uanui_, a monstrous dragon. You speak of my presence as tremendous, **faas ofan**, but there is no proof of your words."

It regarded him coldly before turning away and retreating to its original spot above the tunnel entrance.

"It seems as if we have to refine your colloquial properties, little elf."

Thranduil bowed his head, wrecking his brain for where he had misstepped. Dragons liked flattery, didn't they? But maybe this one was special and therefore had different preferences?

"As you wish, oh horrible dragon."

A sharp hiss was his answer. Thranduil wasn't sure whether it was aggravated or pleased.

"Take a seat, **mal fahliil**. As long as you do not insult me and keep your tongue in check you shall be welcomed here."

Still confused, with adrenaline pumping through his body, the elf bowed lightly. When he spotted nothing that could serve as a seat he simply kneeled down.

"I am grateful for your hospitality," he managed stiffly.

A low, rumbling sound filled the cave, causing the floor to vibrate lightly. It took Thranduil a moment to realise the dragon was chuckling.

"Oh, do not mistake it for courtesy," it said, tone as casual as could be. "It was an order." The gaze of its red eyes bore into his and caused his heart to skip a beat. Suddenly he felt the danger he was in: should he fail to please the dragon his existence would be ended in a mere second. The beast's next words only served to confirm his thoughts.

"You are at my mercy, **mal fahliil**. If I do not find your presence enjoyable the world will be short of one more elf. So, go on. Humour me."

Thranduil hesitated, unsure of what was expected of him. Licking his dry lips, he finally confessed, "I fear I do not know how to please a dragon." When the animal growled, he quickly added, "But I am willing to learn, should you decide to share your wisdom with me."

"You are a **volaan mindok lost**, a quick learner. Hmm... It would be a shame to end your presence so soon."

Slightly reassured by these words, Thranduil met the dragon's gaze.

"Your advice?"

"Watch your words."

At first he thought he thought he was being reprimanded, but when the dragon continued to stare at him expectantly he realised it had been an answer to his question.

He inclined his head. "I will, _amlug 'ortheb_."

The serpent hissed. "Do not offend me, **boziik fahliil**. I told you to watch your tongue, **nuz him dein tinvaak vokul se kinz ko daar wuth**, yet you continue to insult me in this way."

Thranduil flinched when its voice rose in volume.

"I beg your pardon, I did not know my words would not be to your liking."

A low growl was his answer. "**Aaz ofan**, pardon granted. For now."

The elf released a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.

"May I ask", he begun hesitantly. "What it was that upset you so greatly?"

The dragon shot him a blazing look. "The choice of words you are addressing me with. I do not like any of them."

"I always assumed your kin prided themselves on chaos and destruction", he murmured surprised.

"**Geh**, my brothers do."

Thranduil frowned, curious against his will. "Why don't you?"

Once again the animal descended from its position on the wall and started circling him, growling low.

"**Pah zeymah kos laas suleyk,** my brothers are powerful," it began in that hypnotic voice that seemed to draw him in no matter what. Transfixed, Thranduil could do nothing but listen while he watched the serpent move around him. "Their bodies are full of vigour and might. When they spread their **vingge**, their wings, they keep the sunlight from reaching the earth. Their breath brings fire and death upon the world. They are raw, pure and brutal strength, whereas my **briinahhe**, my sisters, like to think of themselves as more... refined."

Mesmerised by the dragon's smooth movements it took Thranduil a moment to process those words. Its body was of a terrible beauty, from ivory teeth and burning red eyes down to the spiked end of its long, slender tail trailing behind it like a giant whip.

He could see the strong muscles that were bulging beneath hard scales with every step it took, making the serpent's hide ripple with suppressed strength.

He was so absorbed that he could not stifle the surprised gasp that escaped his throat when realisation hit him.

"You are female!", he exclaimed surprised, his eyes wide.

"I am", the dragon growled and swung her head around to face him directly. "Which you are not, obviously, otherwise you would have noticed."

Thranduil tried not to take offence in her comment but failed miserably. "There are great differences between male and female elves. You can tell them apart easily."

She huffed and turned away. "I wouldn't have noticed." Before his anger could take root, she lashed her tail at him in a lazy gesture which he only narrowly avoided. His heart beating fast he stared at her with wide eyes, his throat suddenly very dry.

The dragon lowered herself to the ground, her huge body circling the cave almost entirely. Thranduil could not help but notice the tip of her tail whipping back and forth in front of the tunnel entrance, effectively blocking his way out. He was trapped.

"Are you scared, **mal fahliil**?", she asked, her smooth voice causing a shiver to run down his spine.

After a moment of silence, he finally admitted in a hushed voice, "Yes. Very much so."

He did not deem it wise to lie to a dragon.

"Good", she purred, fixing her unsettling eyes on him. "It would be foolish of you not to be.

"Now, tell me, **fahliil**, who are you? There has to be a name I can call you by."

Settling himself on the cold ground once again, Thranduil responded, "Why would you want to know my name? I will most likely end up as your meal."

The dragon blinked once. "Aye, most likely. But until then you will speak to me, which is the reason you came here in the first place."

She seemed to mull over her next words before adding, "Besides, I am not hungry at the moment. I happened upon a group of farmers on my way here. A bit sinewy and scrawny, maybe, but it'll do."

She clicked her teeth. "Well then, one favour for another. You have heard about me and my kind, now tell me about yourself, little elfling. I think it is about time for you to introduce yourself properly."

He looked at her thoughtfully and finally inclined his head, crossing his legs to sit in a more comfortable position.

"Very well. One favour for another, it is."

And thus, Thranduil began his tale.

* * *

_Hey there, people!_

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The ones of you who've already been with me before I left for Scotland will probably find this chapter famililar._

_I'm currently working on chapter four so far, but chapter three is where the first noticeable changes will appear!_

_A huge thanks goes out to my beta, obsidianglasses, who puts up with me and my weird English._

_See you guys soon!_

_Love,_

_planless_


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

* * *

"I am Thranduil", he began, wondering if he should mention his father was the king but in the end he decided against it. "I was born before the first age and-"

"Did you fight in the War of Wrath?", the dragon interrupted curiously. Thranduil struggled for words, taken by surprise by the blunt question, and eventually shook his head.

"No. I was ordered to stay behind with elves too young to go to war, and watch over them. Truth be told, I am grateful for it. My father once told me it was no battle but a slaughter. Up to this day he is reluctant to speak of it."

She chuckled. "Yes, that's something my **zeymah** would do. My **monah**, my mother, used to tell me about the Old Ones, **lotdovah**, and their greatness."

"There is no greatness in killing thousands of innocent beings", Thranduil spoke, his voice cold, despite the knowledge that it would anger the dragon. "The wickedness of your kin has ended the lives of so many."

The serpent growled and the ominous sound made him regret his words almost instantly. "Careful now, **malfahliil**, it is dangerous ground you are treading. You speak of the wickedness of my kind, yet you don't know anything. Do you care for the insects crushed beneath your feet as you walk the earth?"

"You cannot compare elves with insects," he protested, his temper getting the better of him in spite of the fear he felt. He was the prince and sole heir to an entire kingdom; he was entitled to have an opinion and voice it without having to fear for his life.

The dragon hissed, and something almost like a ripple went through her body as her muscles tensed.

"Can't I?" she snapped. "What's the difference? Humans, elves, dwarves, Vedjun wouldn't have noticed had he stepped on one or possibly hundreds of them, just as you don't notice the death of an ant brought upon it by your boot."

"You would know if you were to step on me, be it by accident or ill intent", Thranduil retorted irately. He didn't like the change in their conversation. The fear he felt when facing the dragon was being drowned out almost entirely by a sudden wave of anger at her blasé attitude and the demanding tone she used on him, ordering him around. He knew he was getting himself into trouble, that she would crush him as easily as a bug, but he couldn't seem to help it.

"Aye", the dragon growled. "But then again, I am not Vedjun. I may not be the smallest dragon to walk the earth, but at the same time I am far from reaching the size of my brothers. And Vedjun surpasses them easily in greatness and power."

The elf frowned. "Who is this Vedjun you speak of?"

At this, the serpent raised her head haughtily. "The Black King is the first thing a little hatchling hears about after breaking its shell. It is the tale all mothers tell their drakelings before they can even lift their heads. It is a story of power and held dear by my people.

"Vedjun was the embodiment of might and every male wishes to be like him while there is not one female who would not seek him out as her mate. Vedjun is the greatest being to ever have ruled the sky and in the War of Wrath he took many a life before Eärendil and his eagles ended him."

She seemed to think for a moment before adding, "You may know him as Ancalagon the Black."

Thranduil shivered with fear and repulsion. "How can you speak so highly of him? His actions have brought upon us nothing but fear and death." He was unable to keep the hostility from his voice.

The dragon threw him a warning look. "I do not like your tone, little elfling. Vedjun was the one to lead my people into battle and he has slaughtered more enemies than anyone could have counted. We dragons pride ourselves on our ancestors. Do not speak ill of them."

He scowled. "There is nothing honourable in killing innocents. How can you possibly look up to... To that monster?!"

"Aye, a monster he was", she exclaimed proudly, sending little puffs of smoke from her nostrils. "The most horrible of all dragons."

Thranduil looked at her in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

Bringing her head down to face him, the dragon growled, "Do not doubt the sincerity of my words, **malfahliil**, for it would do you no good. Now, tell me more about yourself. Whom do you descend of, **volaanvothmin**?"

In a desperate attempt to evade her question - he didn't want her to know more about him than absolutely necessary -, Thranduil asked back, "What does this mean?"

She rested her head on her paws lazily. "**Volaanvothmin**?"

He nodded.

"It means you are quick to judge."

Thranduil almost scowled at her answer. "Why?" He felt insulted and only barely managed to keep his voice from rising. "I do not judge you."

The dragon huffed angrily. "You judge my people. The only thing you speak of is the terror we have brought to your race, but you have yet to see things from a dragon's position. We care neither for your rise nor your downfall because you do not matter. You are insignificant."

"I don't understand," Thranduil said, shaking his head. "How can you show so little interest in other lives?"

The serpent blinked. "It is not out of spite – at least most of the time. But if I were to weep every single time an elf or human or dwarf died because I have sneezed into the wrong direction my mind would break. We do not care for you because you are so small and fragile. You cannot keep up with us."

He kept quiet for the longest time, mulling over her words. When he made no attempt to speak again, the dragon let out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

"Tell me something, **malfahliil**," she all but ordered, but her voice was gentle now - as gentle as a dragon's voice could be -, and so he reluctantly obliged.

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"I don't know. Think of something."

With a little frown he stretched out his legs in front of him. They were cramped and stiff from sitting on the hard ground for so long, so it was a welcome relief when he allowed himself to relax a little bit.

After a moment's consideration, Thranduil rose his voice. "May I ask you something?"

The dragon hummed low in her throat. "You may, little one. Although it depends on the question whether you will receive an answer."

He nodded. "You could have killed me long ago, yet you didn't." He looked at her searchingly. "Why?"

Cracking open one red eye, the serpent let out a small yawn, then asked, "What good would it do?"

"Would there be any harm?", he retorted.

She sighed. "Very well. You are still alive, little elf, because this is the first decent conversation I have had in a long while. Rest assured, if your presence did not please me you would not be here."

"When was the last time you spoke to someone else?" Thranduil asked curiously.

"Hmm, perhaps a decade?" The elf's eyes widened in surprise and he opened his mouth, but before he could say anything the dragon went on, "I have lost track of time so I fear I am unable to give you an exact answer."

"It's fine", he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't mind."

Then, after a while, he added, "Do you ever get lonely?"

She raised her massive shoulders, the dragon equivalent of a shrug Thranduil assumed.

"I don't. Dragons are solitary, **malfahliil**. They only gather to mate and raise their young ones."

"And are you mated?"

As soon as the question left his lips he cursed himself. He wouldn't even dare ask a mere human woman such a question this early in an acquaintance, let alone a dragon, for it was far too intimate a topic.

The dragon hissed; obviously she, too, thought the question inappropriate. "Do I look like a mother to you?!"

Before he could say anything, she continued, her voice much softer.

"No, little elfling, I am not mated. I haven't seen another dragon for years."

Thranduil felt a sudden twinge of sympathy. He couldn't imagine being separated from his people for such a long period of time, even if he wasn't alone.

"Do your regret it?", he inquired, voice soft.

"Not really," she answered and let out another little yawn. "I have slept most of the time, anyway."

Her dry tone caused him to chuckle.

"So, how do dragons find their respective mates?", he inquired daringly, deciding to take advantage of her surprisingly placid mood. On the spot he could think of at least a dozen questions he wanted to ask in order to satisfy his burning curiosity - a trait most elves seemed to share. Over the course of their conversation, his fear had receded somewhat, making room for different feelings and thoughts. His mind was working properly once more.

"The females get to choose their partner", the dragon rumbled, her low voice causing him to shiver. "They usually go for the most powerful ones but there are exceptions. Some of us seek to converse with their mates so they pick the smarter ones. Is there a specific reason for your question?"

Thranduil shrugged, meeting her attentive gaze. "I am merely curious."

The dragon hummed softly. "As elves tend to be." There was an awkward pause, then she suddenly asked, "Can you sing, **malfahliil**?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, taken aback by the sudden change of topic.

"Well, yes", he finally admitted. "At least by the standards of my own people. But..."

"But what?" she inquired, watching him curiously.

"But I do not know if it would please a dragon," he said quietly.

"Why not? I have heard many a song over the course of my life and I remember every single one. I find them to sound most pleasant if sung by your kind."

Thranduil looked at her surprisedly."You have known other elves?"

She laughed, a dark, rumbling sound that caused him to shiver. "I am old, little one, although I have to admit your age is superior to mine. I have met humans and elves alike."

He smiled, eager at the chance to learn more about the great serpent. "If I may ask, how old are you, exactly?"

"I have lost count of my years, so there is no definite answer to your question. But I can tell you I have hatched roughly one millennium ago."

So he was about two thousand years older than her.

"But that does not mean you are any wiser", she growled and Thranduil realised he had spoken his thoughts aloud. "Indeed, most of the elves I have known have been foolish, too proud to endure. Their stubbornness and sense of superiority makes them rash in their decisions. It is a trait your people seem to share."

"I do not make 'rash decisions'," he said, holding his head high. "My people are known to possess both wisdom and foresight."

The dragon closed her eyes, her voice dripping with disinterest when she rumbled, "Really. Then I am to assume the elves I have gotten to pick from between my teeth on many occasions were merely your adventurous youngsters?"

Thranduil froze and looked at her. "You have killed elves," he stated in a frigid voice. He had assumed so, based on her behaviour and their conversation, but it was another thing to hear her admit it.

"Of course I have," she drawled. "Many have tried to slay me. And not only young elves. There were older ones, with more wisdom and foresight, as you call it."

Thranduil rose to his feet and glared at her. "Why?" he demanded, his voice hard, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. A warning growl filled the cave, but he ignored it. "Why did you kill them?"

All of a sudden, the dragon's eyelids snapped open. Turning her head, she looked him square in the eye, her glare so hot with anger he took an involuntary step back.

"I will tell you why," she hissed. Her tail started twitching, its spiked tip only narrowly missing Thranduil's head. "They come to my lair," she growled, teeth flashing and hot breath fanning across his face. The elf had to fight back a sudden wave of nausea as the stench of rotten flesh hit him. "They rouse me from my slumber. They point their weapons at me and expect me to go down without a fight."

Her tail smashed into the side of the cave, causing the ground to quake. Little pieces of rock fell from the ceiling.

Her voice grew in volume as she went on and it was difficult for Thranduil to stay where he was. His whole body screamed at him to run but he knew were he to take so much as a step it would be the end of him.

An aggravated roar filled the cave and she threw back her head, breathing a stream of burning hot fire at the ceiling. He felt the temperature around him rise.

"Me, a dragon!"

Thranduil flinched when she swung her head around to face him. The only thing he could do was to stare into her blazing eyes, captivated, as little wisps of smoke curled from her jaw.

"What do you have to say to this?" she hissed, bearing her teeth at him.

He gulped, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. He knew it would be of no use against the dragon but the cool leather beneath his fingers served to calm him a little.

"I -" He took a breath to calm his fluttering nerves. "I am sure they had their reasons."

"So they did. And so did I for killing them." She pulled back and growled. "Maybe one day you'll understand better."

This would have been the perfect moment to steer this conversation into calmer waters. But the dragon was wrong, and she had to see it. "There's nothing to understand about killing without reason," Thranduil explained coolly, his shoulders squared and jaw set. "It is the superior mind's obligation to enact mercy. You are a dragon, you could have just chased them off!"

"Do you really think I had no reason?" she snapped angrily. "That I smashed their bones, burned them alive, simply because they happened to stumble into my cave by accident? This just proves you didn't listen at all, elf, and you really are quick to judge, despite what you might think. You are just as bad as the rest of your people."

Strangely enough, her words stung. Rendered silent by the sheer resignation and disdain in the dragon's voice, Thranduil could do nothing but stare at her when she turned away from him and retreated to the far end of the cave.

"Leave, and do not come back. I've had enough of the proud and nobles of this world," she growled, voice dripping with sarcasm." When he failed to move, she glared at him with her red eyes. In the darkness of the cave, they looked like burning coals.

"I will spare you this last time. If you don't return, others will come, and I cannot be bothered with anyone. Spread the word amongst your people: whoever so much as draws near this mountain will be crushed, without exception."

"Will you hurt them if they don't?" Thranduil asked quietly, a sudden lump in his throat. He had thrown away the one chance his people had on negotiating with the dragon. His father had been right; she couldn't stay here. His heart felt heavy at the thought. Now that he had seen the serpent's power, the idea of fighting her seemed utterly foolish.

She didn't deign his question with an answer.

"Go," she rumbled, her voice cold. "You are no longer welcome here."

* * *

_Hello everybody!_  
_I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Once again, a big thanks goes out to my beta Obsidianglasses, who is still willing to proofread everything I send her. Cheers!_

_Changes in this chapter:_

_\- the dragon now kicks out Thranduil waaay sooner. It won't keep him from coming back and bothering her again eventually, but it helps speed the story along a bit._

_See you around!_

_Love,_

_planless_


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

* * *

The trip home took Thranduil four days instead of three. Lost in thought and feeling entirely disheartened, he let Tûr set the pace and the stallion trotted happily along the paths, stopping every so often to nibble at a few sparse grass blades or nose around in some bushes. The elf sitting on his back didn't care. His face betrayed nothing of the dark thoughts that whirled around in his head. Most of all he was scared of facing his father. Oropher had placed the well-being of their entire kingdom in Thranduil's hands, and he had thrown it all away because he refused to swallow his pride even when logic called for it.

Thranduil was so busy berating himself that he failed to notice the walls of Amon Lanc looming up before him, and only snapped out of his thoughts when the guard posts greeted him politely. He could see them smiling slightly at him, and something in his gut seemed to twist. They never smiled at his father.

Feeling rotten to the core, Thranduil plastered a smile on his face, sent them a court nod, and urged Tûr through the gates into the outer courtyard. Making his way over to the stables, it felt like a million eyes were watching him. It made him clench his fists.

Waving away the ostler that popped up next to him as soon as he reached the stables, Thranduil slid out of the saddle and grabbed Tûr by the head collar. The stallion followed him willingly, ears turning attentively as he took in the familiar surroundings. By the time they reached the bay they were headed for, the massive guilt pooling in Thranduil's stomach had ebbed off somewhat.

They would get through this, he told himself as he removed his horse's gear and began to scrub the shining fur with fists full of straw. He would tell his father everything, and together they would figure out a solution.

"Glad to see you made it back safely," a happy voice interrupted his musings. Instantly, the guilt slammed back into Thranduil like a giant hammer.

Turning around, Sirhael's big blue eyes seemed to bore into him like spears. He didn't notice the concerned look that crossed her face as his whole world centered on her worried gaze. _She is innocent_,was all he could think, fighting back a sudden wave of nausea. _As are all the others. _

Her gentle voice, laced with worry, pierced his ears, and suddenly her eyes seemed far too close. "My lord, is everything all right?"

Thranduil blinked before shaking off the soft hand that was resting on his forearm and tried to clear his head. Sirhael took a tentative step back, then cocked her head to the side. She seemed to be worried for him.

"Did something happen in the forest?" He didn't answer. Her gaze travelled down his body, searching for obvious injuries, and she shook her head, confused.

"You don't look hurt. So what-"

"Nothing happened, Sirhael," Thranduil interrupted smoothly. His voice was cool and even, but if anything the sudden change in his behaviour seemed to make the elf even more confused.

"I don't believe you," she stated firmly and crossed her arms. "I can see that you don't feel well. You can tell me, you know."

Scowling, Thranduil merely shook his head and resumed the task of scrubbing down Tûr's auburn fur. Sirhael sighed quietly, then ducked around the horse and began brushing the stallion's other side. For a while they worked in silence while Thranduil fought to get a hold of his jumbled emotions, all the while pointedly ignoring the other elf.

"How was Tûr?" she asked finally in an attempt to breach the heavy silence that had settled between them. Thranduil threw her a quick glance, but she was staring at the horse's withers while scrubbing away at a patch of fur with undoubtedly more vigour than necessary.

"He was wonderful," he answered, brushing a couple of straws of the horse's croup. "I didn't have an ounce of trouble with him."

Sirhael frowned. "He's been acting up with me lately. I guess he must have been really missing you." Turning to look at him, she said, "You should come by more often."

Thranduil gave her a tight-lipped smile. "I know he's in good hands." The ostler shot him an unreadable glance and started combing the stallion's mane with her fingers. In the awkward silence that followed, Thranduil finished brushing Tûr and bent down to check the horses legs. When he straightened up again, he met Sirhael's gaze.

"What happened in the forest?" she asked again. Thranduil crossed his arms. "Why do you want to know?" he shot back.

"Because I worry about you," Sirhael said with a scowl.

"Well, don't."

"Why won't you tell me?" she prodded, ducking beneath Tûr's neck so she could face him better. "I promise, I won't tell anyone. I -" She sighed. "I want to help."

The guilt that swept through Thranduil at her quiet words was almost too much. "I appreciate your concern, Sirhael," he answered in a low voice. "But this is nothing you can help me with."

When she raised an eyebrow at him, it was his turn to sigh. "You won't let this go, will you?" Sirhael shook her head as an answer.

"Listen," he said. "Something happened in the forest, and I can't tell you about it." When she opened her mouth to protest he cut her off. "Sirhael, _listen_." When she nodded hesitantly he continued. "What happened in the forest was both really dangerous and important, and I managed to make a real mess. Now I am trying to figure out how to solve it, but I need to speak to my father first."

Weirdly enough, his words didn't seem to worry the elf at all. Quite the opposite happened, in fact. The concerned look had all but disappeared from Sirhael's face. She sent him a relaxed smile, then turned around and left the bay.

"As long as you're not trying to figure it out on your own," she said over her shoulder and picked up the saddle he had simply dropped down next to the gate. She didn't even berate him for mishandling the gear as she usually would have done. Thranduil wondered what exactly he had said that had calmed her so much. "I'll take care of the rest if you want me to," the ostler offered, the saddle in her arms. Thranduil nodded gratefully and slipped past her out the bay after patting Tûr one final time.

"Thank you, Sirhael," he said, then turned around and left when she simply nodded.

He left the stables feeling much better, and even if the guilt was still making his stomach churn, the odd conversation with the other elf had sparked a determination in him that made him positive he could fix this mess he had propelled everyone in. Making up his mind that he wouldn't tell his father after all, he decided that he would go back to see the dragon as soon as possible. Everything would be fine in the end. It simply had to.

* * *

Despite his newly found courage, Thranduil didn't feel like facing his father straight away, and so he ended up tucked away in a corner of the palace kitchens, munching on an apple and quietly watching the steady buzz of activity. There was something oddly calming about the way everybody knew what to do, where to be and whom to help, what to fetch, stir and turn, and to Thranduil, it almost seemed like a complicated dance.

A light touch on his shoulder caused him to snap out of his quiet musings. Iorphen, the oldest elf in Amon Lanc and undisputed ruler in this part of the palace, bowed lightly, then handed Thranduil a goblet of wine as well as a small bowl filled with berries, nuts, and dried pieces of fruit.

"Thank you, Iorphen," Thranduil said with a smile. The old elf simply nodded. "You are welcome, my lord," he said. He turned around when he heard a voice call his name.

"Iorphen! Iorphen, where are you?" Thranduil looked up and blinked when he saw an elf, tall and his long brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, nose around the shelves that held the dried fruit, lifting the lids of various pots as he did so.

Without even looking for the old cook, he asked over the kitchen noise, "Tell me, Iorphen, do you still have that dried fruit you gave me last time? I don't know what you did with it, but it tasted so -" he turned around mid-sentence and abruptly stopped talking when he saw Thranduil. For a second, he merely stared at him, then a mischievous glint entered his eyes.

"And whom do we have here?" he asked, sauntering over to them, and without asking grabbed a hand full of fruit from Thranduil's bowl.

"Beleg," Iorphen said in greeting. The younger elf inclined his head, then turned towards the prince.

"I haven't seen you in a very long time," he said, popping a berry into his mouth.

"Where have you been?"

With pictures of snapping jaws and gleaming talons flashing in his mind, Thranduil sent Beleg an annoyed look. "Away," he answered briskly, making it quite clear he did not wish to speak of his whereabouts.

"My, my, aren't we merry today," the other elf taunted in a singing voice. Thranduil resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Usually he was very fond of his friend's refreshingly unconventional and easygoing behaviour, but it were times like these that really tried his patience.

Sobering up rather quickly, Beleg nodded at Iorphen and moved to place a hand on Thranduil's shoulder.

"Come on, I have to show you something."

Not even waiting for his friend's answer, he hauled Thranduil through the side entrance to the kitchen and into the outer courtyard, only leaving the prince enough time to hastily drop the bowl of fruit onto a counter.

"I can tell something troubles you, my friend. What is it?" he asked as he led the way over to the training fields. Scowling at the other elf, Thranduil held out his hand demandingly.

"If you are planning on pestering me with your continued presence, at least give me back my food." Obliging the command with a smirk, Beleg waggled his finely shaped eyebrows at the blond elf.

"You are going to make such a capital king."

Thranduil couldn't keep the smile of his face. "Why can't you just leave a man to his thoughts," he sighed, looking fondly at his friend.

"Because I can tell you've travelled quite a distance. Surely on your way back you had enough time to brood." Shaking his head at Beleg's gentle rebuke, Thranduil pulled open the doors that lead to the armoury.

"Are you very tired?" Beleg inquired curiously when Thranduil turned to look at him expectantly. Throwing him an assessing glance, he shrugged his shoulders vaguely.

"It depends, I guess. Do you have anything planned for me?"

The bright grin of his friend did a lot to lift Thranduil's gloomy spirits.

"Ah, you caught me on that one. I was hoping you might be willing to spar with me. It's been quite a while since we trained together. And we have new weapons."

Thranduil frowned at those news. "New weapons? Why?"

Eyes alight, Beleg began his tale. From experience Thranduil knew that once his friend started talking, there was no stopping him, and thus he merely listened while they passed the various racks and shelves that held the weapons meant for training.

"They have finally introduced crossbows. Not those flimsy ones like the humans have them, but heavy, strong ones. I heard the armourers got a dwarf to collaborate with them – I wonder what the payment was – and with the new technique they developed they are absolutely devastating. The bolts fly over 500 feet and the impact breaks any armour. People say..."

Thranduil allowed his friend's excited talk to wash away the dark thoughts that lurked around in his head.

By the time they finally reached the back of the vast chamber, Beleg was practically humming with glee.

"Alright, alright," he said, holding up one hand to stop the brown-haired elf's incessant chatter. "Just show me this new wonder weapon."

* * *

_Here we are, people, with a new chapter in tow!_

_I've talked to my beta and we've figured out that this story is going to take maybe sixteen more chapters. _

_She also agreed to stick around unless anything else happened, so that's good!_

_Currently, I have everything planned up to this turning point in the story where I am currently considering to break everything off or at least take a break between the two parts of _The Ways of a Dragon. _If I decide to do so, it is going to be a pretty sad end; if I continue this all the way to the end, it'll turn out less dramatic and a little happier._

_I can't really say if I will finish this thing, because it all depends on how I am feeling, how I'm coping with my studies, and so on blabla.  
But let's talk about that when we're there!_

_I'd like to thank **Obsidianglasses **for proofreading this story. Thanks for sticking with me._

_Another thank you goes out to **feathered moon wings**, who's been really enthusiastic in her reviews ever since I resumed this story._

_Cheers to you and everybody else who reads and enjoys this story!_

_Love,_

_planless_


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

* * *

"So, this is the trigger-"

"Beleg..."

"Here is the string-"

"Beleg-"

"And here-"

"Beleg, be quiet."

Throwing Thranduil an accusing look, Beleg took a step back and crossed his arms.

"Well, if you're so skilled with the crossbow, show me."

Thranduil sighed. "Please don't do that. You know I appreciate your enthusiasm, Beleg, but I have eyes. I can_ see_ the trigger and everything else." When the brown haired elf only huffed, Thranduil almost sighed and said the only thing he could think of to pacify his friend.

"But you still need to show me how it works."

The little peace offering had the desired effect. Shedding his offended - an clearly feigned - behaviour, Beleg took the heavy crossbow from Thranduil's hands. The blond elf watched curiously as his friend propped the weapon against his hip and pulled the lever back with visible effort.

The thick string gave a low hum when it slid into the hollow designed to hold it cocked until the trigger was pulled.

A look of pure adoration on his face, Beleg held up the crossbow. "As you can see it takes very long to draw, which makes it inferior to the bow. It won't be any good in a real battle and because of that we only have a few of them. But the vigour is so immense it tops anything we currently have by far. Listen..."

He tugged softly at the drawn string and, a broad smile on his face, closed his eyes when a deep hum sounded.

"It doesn't take much for you to be happy, does it?" Thranduil murmured absentmindedly. The low vibrations reminded him of the dragon in the mountains, and he couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine. Beleg's next word hauled him back into the present.

"Now let us see if you can handle this little petal." He handed back the weapon and Thranduil felt his muscles strain in order to hold up the crossbow. He raised an eyebrow at Beleg.

"I wish for you to remember that this is a deadly weapon, not a _petal_, as you so fondly call it."

Waving the rebuke aside, Beleg presented his friend with a single bolt. "Here. Do you know what to do with it?"

"I believe I can manage, thank you very much," Thranduil snapped, although the words lacked any real bite. The other elf only snickered quietly.

After inserting the bolt, Thranduil lifted the crossbow and took aim. "It is indeed very heavy," he reflected while focusing on the target at the other end of the training grounds, over 300 feet away.

"It is," Beleg agreed. "Which is why nobody dares to actually use it outside the safety of the palace. A bow is much lighter and quicker. Now, fire."

Giving a slight nod, Thranduil focused once more, then pulled the trigger.

* * *

The recoil of the crossbow instantly threw him off balance and it was only due to Beleg's quick hands on his shoulder that he didn't fall. Straightening up, he handed the crossbow over to his friend and flexed his fingers. Every nerve in his arms tingled.

Frowning, Thranduil turned to face his companion. "I believe you failed to mention _this_." His sour look quickly turned into a smile when Beleg gave him a cheeky grin.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you were such a lightweight."

Putting the crossbow down onto the rack next to him, he gave Thranduil a friendly clap on the shoulder.

"For what it's worth, I fell over as well when I first tried it. Only there was no one who could have caught me."

Together, they wandered towards the target, engrossed in a heated discussion about the new weapon, so when they finally reached their destination, it took both of them a while to realise something was amiss.

"Where is the bolt?" Thranduil asked after staring at the target for a moment.

"I don't know," Beleg replied slowly, then turned to look at his friend. "Did you, by any chance, miss?"

"I don't think I did," the blond elf replied, puzzled. Beleg frowned, then walked around the target.

"Believe it or not," his voice sounded from behind it. "But your bolt went straight through. Look." A moment later he reappeared, the missile in one hand. "It was stuck in the support log." With a smirk, he added, "And apparently you are a natural with the crossbow. You hit dead centre."

Thranduil frowned, subtly picking up the things his friend wasn't telling him.

"I take it your bolt didn't go through?"

Shaking his head, Beleg admitted, "No. There are two types of crossbows, I only tried the lighter one."

"Aha. And you gave me this one because..."

"Because I knew you could handle it." Beleg hesitated for a moment, then looked his friend in the eye. All traces of geniality were gone when he spoke on.

"Thranduil, I know it's not my place to ask and in no way I mean to probe, but you are my friend and I can tell something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

Frowning, Thranduil turned away, looking at nothing in particular at the far end of the field.

"You're right," he said quietly. "It isn't your place to ask."

* * *

They stood together in silence for a while, neither of them sure how to proceed, until Thranduil gave in. It wouldn't hurt to tell Beleg at least a little bit. After all, he had indulged Sirhael as well.

"Beleg.. What would you do if... If you met someone whose mood swings you cannot predict? How would you deal with someone who has a really low opinion of you and doesn't give you a chance to prove them otherwise?"

Beleg contemplated the words for a while, and all of a sudden a huge, knowing grin appeared on his face.

"I take it we are talking about a woman?"

Thranduil smiled. "How could you possibly know?"

Beleg laughed. "I am time and again surprised at how little you know about females. _Unpredictable mood swings? _No man will ever fit this description."

A small chuckle escaped Thranduil. "What makes you so certain?" Beleg shrugged and answered, "I have grown up with three older sisters."

"But they never struck me as wayward," Thranduil protested. His friend threw him a suffering look.

"That is because you don't live with them. Believe me, they are quite difficult to handle at times."

By now the two Elves had wandered back towards the rack that held the crossbow. Beleg picked up the weapon up and frowned.

"Now what would I do..? Personally, I'd recommend pestering them until they give in." He looked at Thranduil speculatively. "But judging from your expression that won't work for your lady." Thranduil looked at him blankly and Beleg grinned. "Relax. I was joking. I'll just stow the crossbow away. Wait here for me."

Bemused, Thranduil looked after his friend and watched as he carried away the weapon to the armoury. He had a feeling that the task took Beleg more time than it usually would and by the time the brown haired Elf had returned he looked lost in thought.

"So, did you come up with anything?" Thranduil inquired after a while. Beleg slowly shook his head.

"Not really," he said. "If you've upset her, you might consider apologising until she is willing to talk to you, but I don't know... Have you?"

"Upset her?"

"Yes."

Thranduil took a deep breath. "I believe so. She said she didn't wish to see me again."

"Oh, don't worry about that. She's just being dramatic," Beleg grinned.

"Beleg," Thranduil warned him, a hint of annoyance tinting the word.

The other Elf rolled his eyes at him. "Impatient as always. Really, Thranduil, you can never take a joke the right way. Besides, that's just how females are."

Deciding to drop the subject, Thranduil changed topic.

"How about a quick spar?"

At his words, Beleg perked up.

"I get to choose the weapons," he said.

* * *

For the third time in a row, Thranduil found himself disarmed. Breathing heavily, he looked down the length of Beleg's sword, right into his friend's eyes which were twinkling with laughter.

"It seems your skill hasn't lessened during the weeks we haven't seen each other," he said.

"It doesn't matter if my skill has lessened or not, I will always best you with the sword," Beleg answered and grinned at him.

"Well, so let's exchange the blade for the lance. It's been a long time since I had an adequate partner," Thranduil proposed. His friend nodded.

"As you wish."

Thranduil had only just sheathed his sword and taken a few steps in the direction of the armoury when a voice halted him.

"Lord Thranduil." Upon turning around, he saw an elf whose soft green tunic identified him as a servant. When he raised a questioning eyebrow, the other bowed.

"Your father wishes to see you, milord."

Thranduil hesitated and, after throwing Beleg an apologising look, nodded at the messenger. "Please tell him I will be with him shortly."

With a curt bow, the servant turned to leave. "As you wish, milord."

"Well, there goes our training." Beleg stepped next to Thranduil and sighed. "Don't give me that look. It's all right. I haven't had such an enjoyable spar for quite a while."

Thranduil smiled softly at his friend's words. "Me neither."

Both of the elves grabbed each other's wrists and, after a short moment of silence, let go again.

"I will come to see you in a few days. Don't even think of sneaking off again without telling me anything," Beleg grinned.

Thranduil nodded gravely. "I promise."

"Good." With a wink and a casual wave, Beleg took both of their swords and carried them over to the armoury.

Thranduil looked after him before he shook his head and walked into the other direction. Never in his whole life had he come across another elf quite like Beleg.

* * *

After a quick bath and donning a clean set of clothes, Thranduil now stood in front of his father's chambers, the nervousness in his gut almost making him sick. He couldn't let his father discover that he had destroyed any chance they might have had on negotiating with the dragon.

_He won't find out,_ he though with more courage than he actually felt. _Not before I have fixed this._

Taking a deep breath, he forced back the guilt that was making his stomach churn, and knocked at the door.

Upon entering, he found Oropher seated behind his desk, a light crease marring his forehead. Thranduil knew his father; it meant something was causing him grief.

"My Lord," he said after a while when Oropher didn't so much as acknowledge his presence. Looking up, the Elven-king's brows furrowed.

"Thranduil," he greeted in a soft voice and, waving a hand at the chair in front of his desk, added, "Please. Have a seat."

Thranduil did as he was told and watched his father as he poured dark wine from an ornate carafe into two equally elaborate goblets. The heavy, sweet aroma reached his nose and he inhaled deeply, revelling in the rich scent and letting it calm his frazzled nerves.

"I know you like it," Oropher said, his the corners of his mouth tilting upwards, as he handed his son one of the goblets. "But it would be wise to refrain from getting too carried away. Wine can be as dangerous as the sword."

Accepting the offered drink, Thranduil leaned back in his chair and frowned. "Why?"

"Because it clouds your mind and loosens your tongue. You might regret it afterwards."

"I am aware of that, father."

"I know you are. I just want you to..." Oropher sighed. "Be careful. There might come a time when you, as a king, will remember my words and find them useful."

"I always find your words useful, father," Thranduil replied with a frown. "You are a wise king."

Oropher gave his son a light smile. "I know you can take care of yourself. I am just being a worried father. Please indulge me."

The younger elf couldn't help the sudden fondness blooming in his chest, but it rapidly turned into apprehension when his father abruptly changed the topic.

"You know we are going to war."

Taken by surprise at the sudden statement, Thranduil nodded. "I do, father. Is that why you called me here?"

"To an extent, yes. There are new developments concerning the allied forces."

"There are? What is it?" Thranduil leaned forwards, excitement rushing through him.

His father threw him a dunning look. "I do not like the eagerness with which you embrace these tidings." After a moment of consideration, he sighed.

"You have, however, to know of these things. Do you remember my exchange with Gil-galad?"

Taking a sip of his wine, Thranduil inclined his head. "Yes. You sent him a messenger last summer to once again confirm our assistance in the upcoming war. He and his forces are encamping at Rivendell together with Elendil and his son."

Oropher nodded slowly. "They will not be staying there for much longer. The Dark Lord is getting restless and they will soon have to move."

At this, the younger Elf perked up. "How much time do you estimate is left to us?"

"Half a year. A year at most. I believe they will move as soon as the last snow has thawed."

"That leaves us about six months to get ready," Thranduil mused. "Harvesting season is near and it will leave us with enough food storage to see us safely through the winter. Our forces will be strong when we have to depart."

"Yes, they will be," Oropher nodded. "But strong enough? This is another question, my son."

"What do you mean, father? Orcs and trolls won't be able to withstand our soldiers."

"It is not them whom I worry about," the Elven king replied gravely. "Who knows what abominations the Dark Lord might be breeding in those moments? Not to talk of the dragons."

Thranduil frowned. "Dragons? Do you really believe they would be willing to join his cause?"

Oropher, who until now seemed to have all but forgotten about the goblet standing before him, moved to take a sip of the wine. Staring into its liquid depths, his eyes grew dark.

"Gil-galad has sent word that he managed to win over the dwarves of Moria. They will fight alongside us. And wherever a dwarf sticks as much as his nose out of the ground there will be a dragon waiting for him. So yes, I do believe we will have to face them."

"But where are they? In my whole life since the war of Wrath I have never seen as much as a tail tip."

"Apart from the one housing in the mountains, you mean."

"Well... Yes." Which brought back the question why this particular dragon was here in the first place. Thranduil frowned, but his father's voice caught his attention before his thoughts could stray all too far.

"My advisor, Lord Thúviel, has informed me that they breed up in the Grey Mountains, in an area called the Withered Heath. It is by rights part of the dwarven kingdoms but they avoid it because of the dragons."

"I can understand their reasoning," Thranduil murmured. For a fleeting second, something akin to guilt passed over his fathers features. "Did you tell Lord Thúviel about the dragon in the mountains?" Oropher shook his head. "No," he said. "I thought it best to wait until we know more about its motives." Thranduil nodded.

"It is not only the orcs and dragons I worry about," he said slowly. "There is something else, something evil, that is sweeping over the lands. I can feel it. Nothing it touches remains unchanged."

Thranduil took a sip of his wine. "Do you think it has to do with Sauron?"

Lost in thought, Oropher ran his right index finger along the rim of his goblet, watching his son through half lidded eyes. "That is what I believe, yes," he said slowly. "Which is why he must be stopped. But I also can't help but wonder if this dragon in the Black Mountains is a part of this evil."

He looked at his son questioningly. Thranduil hesitated for a moment, then said, "I'm not completely sure. I don't think she's being evil just for the sake of it. But maybe she has some hidden agenda we don't know about."

"So it is a female dragon?" Oropher asked, interest obviously piked. "What else did you find out?"

The younger elf waved a dismissive hand and took another sip in an attempt to distract himself from the sudden wave of fear and guilt that swept through him at his father's words. "Nothing much," he answered. "She seems to be very proud, and has a very fickle temper. Also, she doesn't hold us elves, or anyone else for that matter, in terribly high regard, which makes talking to her somewhat difficult."

The Elven-king nodded slowly, tapping a slender finger against his jaw. "Anything else? Why is she here?"

Thranduil shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I didn't even catch her name."

Oropher shot his son a sharp look. "What do you mean, you don't know her name?"

Indignation flaring to life at his father's reproachful words, Thranduil sat up straight. "This is nothing that should be blamed on me. She speaks both in common tongue and the language of her kin, and her manners don't make talking to her any easier."

The Elven-king looked at him in a way that made Thranduil's skin crawl. His father always seemed to know more than he let on.

"Just take care of yourself," he said eventually. "I do not wish to see you fall victim to a dragon, or anything else for that matter."

"Neither do I," Thranduil replied darkly.

* * *

_Hello once again!_

_Thanks for reading the chapter, I hope you liked it. I'm really trying to pick up the pace, so I'm sorry if it's taking awfully long!  
But the finale is going to be grand, I promise!_

_Once again thank you to _**Obsidianglasses**_for proofreading everything._

_See you next time!_

_Love,_

_planless_


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

* * *

After two very long days, during which Thranduil tried his best to come up with a solution for his dragon problem, he finally decided to ask for help. It wasn't a big decision on whom to go to for advice - there were only two elves besides his father the prince trusted with his entire being. However, he didn't really consider Beleg an expert on women, and so his choice fell on Sirhael. He found her in the stables, where she was tending to a beautiful white mare.

"Hello, my lord," the elf greeted pleasantly when he approached and threw him a quick smile over her shoulder. "This is Snowdrop," she explained, gently running her hands down the horse's neck. "I expect her to foal within the week." Thranduil nodded. "She's beautiful," he admitted, and Sirhael smiled.

"Was there anything you needed?" she asked curiously when he didn't say anything more. Wondering what might be the best way to go about this, Thranduil nodded. "Would you care to go for a ride through the forest? The weather is nice, and I have yet to visit Tûr today." Sirhael visibly hesitated. "I'd love to," she admitted. "But I don't want to leave the palace, in case anything happens to Snowdrop. Maybe another time?"

"I'm leaving in a few days time," he tried. Sirhael looked at him in surprise. "Are you going to see your mysterious lady?" she asked after a moment. Thranduil stared at her and she grinned. "Beleg told me. So, what's her name?" Scowling at the elf, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. When he didn't say anything, Sirhael gaped at him. "Don't tell me you don't know."

* * *

It took him a while, but in the end Thranduil managed to convince Sirhael to come with him. After saddling their horses they left the palace and made their way down the hill and deeper into the forest. "If Snowdrop goes into labour while I'm gone I'm going to have your royal head, Thranduil," the ostler threatened jokingly.

"Are you still riding your scrawny horse?" he teased, waving her words aside. Sirhael threw him a scathing look. "Cadhad might not be the most beautiful horse there is," she said, "but he is definitely the fastest."

Looking over the smoky grey stallion Sirhael called her own, the prince raised an eyebrow. As far as he could tell, her horse was the smallest in the stable, barely more than a big pony, with bones protruding in seemingly all the wrong places, and yet he knew she loved him with all her heart. "How about a race then?" he asked and smiled when his friend perked up. "Down to the river?" she asked, and he nodded. "If you so wish."

Now grinning broadly, Sirhael asked, "Do you want me to give you a head start?" "Please," Thranduil scoffed in mock-offence. "As if your dwarf of a horse could keep up with Tûr."

* * *

Sirhael won. Of course she did. Thranduil couldn't remember a single race she had lost ever since she had gotten Cadhad. "So, what's my prize?" she asked as both elves dismounted to let their horses roam around freely. Thranduil frowned. "Your prize?" Sirhael only rolled her eyes. "You know, for winning?"

"A highly interesting conversation with me?" Thranduil proposed as he led her into the shadow of a nearby tree. "Oh, wow," Sirhael scoffed and plopped down into the grass beneath the birch. "I am honoured, your majesty." Thranduil only chuckled and sat down next to her. For a while they watched their horses wade around in the shallow river bed, then Sirhael turned to look at him. "Is this why you brought me out here? To talk?" she asked and Thranduil nodded hesitantly.

"It is," he admitted. "Or rather, I need to ask for your advice on something." His friend nodded to show him she was listening. Thranduil took a deep breath.

"This might not come as a surprise to you," he began. "But I do indeed need your help with this lady Beleg told you about." Another nod. Searching for the right words to voice his concerns, Thranduil thought for a moment, then decided to simply get it over with.

"I'm having a really hard time trying to understand her. She has a very volatile temper, and I never know if what I say is going to offend her or not. So, when I saw her last time, I might have said something - or rather, it was my behaviour that displeased her and caused her to tell me in no unclear words to never come back."

He trailed off, unsure how to proceed. Sirhael plucked a few blades of grass and began weaving them together, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What is she like?" she asked softly after a while.

"She is... difficult," Thranduil answered after a minute. "Her temper is very fickle. She is easy to offend, and even easier to rile up. She seems very proud and set in her ways, and nothing I say could possibly cause her to change her mind. She is almost impossible to talk to and - why are you smiling?" he shot Sirhael, who had a fond smile on her face, a sharp glare.

"Oh, it's nothing," she shrugged, but laughed when he raised an eyebrow. "Only she sounds a lot like you." Thranduil flinched.

"That is outrageous," he scowled. "I am nothing like her!"

Sirhael's smile only broadened. "If you say so."

"I believe we were talking about how I could make things right between her and me. Do you have any advice?" Thranduil changed topic, his voice tight. Sirhael frowned and added more blades to her chain of grass.

"Is this about love, Thranduil?" she asked quietly. Taken aback, Thranduil sputtered, then looked at Sirhael with such indignation that all the other elf could do was laugh out loud and shake her head. "All right, all right. So it's _not._" She hummed thoughtfully while Thranduil tried to regain his composure, then shrugged her shoulders. "As much as I would like to help, I can't really think of anything, given I don't know this lady. I would suggest bringing her flowers, or something else she likes. I'll be the first to admit that this is a very old trick, but so far it seems to have worked well. In any case, it should show her that you care..."

She trailed off, then grinned at Thranduil. "I'd really like to meet her one day."

"Trust me, you wouldn't," the prince grumbled, then fell silent as he thought over his friend's words. It seemed like reasonably enough advice, even if he wasn't sure it would work on a dragon. Still, it was the only option he had so far, even if it involved sacrificing some of his pride.

"Can I offer another piece of advice?" Sirhael asked with a slight smile on her lips. "I don't understand how you seem so happy about all of this," he grumbled. "But sure."

Tying the grass-chain into a wreath, Sirhael dropped it onto his head and gently pushed a stray lock of hair from his face. "Apply court manners around her, and everything will work out just fine. Also, _please_ make an effort to at least learn her name."

* * *

As soon as they passed through the gates of Amon Lanc, a red haired elf came running up to them, calling Sirhael's name. "What is it?" she asked, bringing her horse to a halt. "The mare, Snowdrop, is foaling."

Throwing Thranduil a scathing look, Sirhael jumped out of the saddle and threw the ostler Cadhad's reins. Thranduil was quick to follow, gently patting Tûr's neck before handing him over to the waiting elf.

"I swear, Thranduil, this lady better be worth my trouble," Sirhael began with her hands on her hips, but snapped her mouth shut when he affectionately tugged at her long braid. "I am really glad you came with me today, _muinthel,_" he confessed. "Your advice has helped me a lot." The elf only rolled her eyes, but he could see a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "So at least_ something _good has come of this," she sighed dramatically, then whirled around and hurried into the direction of the stables. Thranduil chuckled and slowly walked the other way, entering the palace to seek out his father.

* * *

"I intend to leave for the Black Mountains tomorrow, _adar." _

Nodding solemnly at his son's words, Oropher handed him a goblet of wine and helped himself to another one. "So have you thought of a way to approach the dragon?" he asked. Thranduil hesitated.

"I have talked to a friend of mine," he finally admitted, and took a sip of his drink. "And they suggested offering her little things she likes to slowly gain her favour." Oropher inclined his head.

"Sirhael has always been smart," he smiled fondly, and let out a small laugh when Thranduil stared at him. "How -" "I have known your friends for just as long as you have, Thranduil," Oropher cut in gently. "I know how much you trust them."

The young prince sighed. "Yes, well. I suppose you would."

"Did she say anything else?"

Thinking back to his conversation with the ostler, Thranduil reluctantly relayed his friend's words.

"She also claims there is a similarity between the dragon and I," he closed his report sourly. His eyebrows rose when he noticed the amused smile on his father's lips. "How come everybody thinks this is so amusing?" he snapped. Oropher only shook his head, still smiling.

"If Sirhael is correct in her assessment, I advice you treat the dragon the same way you would wish to be treated. Just be polite, Thranduil. That is the best you can do."

Scowling, Thranduil knocked back his drink and got up. "I am _not _like this dragon," he stated firmly, then bowed curtly to his father. "I have to go now. I promised Beleg to inform him should I leave the palace next time."

Oropher nodded solemnly. "Good luck, _ion nîn, _though I pray you won't need it."

* * *

_Hello everyone!  
Sorry it took so long but this chapter really didn't wanna come out the way I wanted it to and in the end I merely slapped down something to get on with the story. I'm not entirely happy with how this turned out, but well - beggars can't be choosers._

_Thanks to my beta for proofreading this and feathered moon wings who has turned out to be a very dutiful reviewer!_

_See you at the next chapter!_

_Love, planless_

_P.S.: Loooads of dragon the next chapter. Be warned._


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

* * *

The dead buck slung over his shoulder weighed down heavily on both his body and conscience, making the hike up the mountain a difficult and slow one. When he almost fell for the second time, Thranduil stopped to push his wet hair out of his face, cursing under his breath.

Some hours back, the skies had opened up and rain started pouring down, all but drowning the green lands below. Thranduil, not prepared for the sudden change in the weather, had been drenched within minutes. Now he found himself struggling up the slippery path to the dragon's lair, the carcass of the deer he had shot earlier doing nothing to make his walk any easier.

After what felt like hours to the elf he finally entered the dark tunnel. Gently lowering the dead stag to the ground, he leant back against the smooth stone walls and took a deep breath. The air smelled of rain and earth, and also a tinge of sulphur that seemed to come from within the mountain. Letting out a quiet sigh, Thranduil glanced down at the deer lying to his feet. Lifeless eyes were staring at him accusingly, and the elf looked over the limp body with regret.

He allowed himself a couple of minutes rest, despite the cold that had begun to settle deep within his bones. His drenched clothing did nothing to warm him up, and when Thranduil felt the first shiver run down his spine he decided that it was time to fulfil his task.

Picking up the stag again and heaving it over his shoulder, he made his way down the tunnel, fully prepared to meet whatever would be waiting for him at the other end.

* * *

The dragon seemed to be expecting him. Curled up in the middle of the cave, her burning red eyes were fixed on him as soon as he emerged from the tunnel. He stopped dead in his tracks, unsure of how to proceed, until the serpent finally rose her head and let out a low growl. A warm gush of air swept through the cave and for a brief moment drove the cold from his body.

"It would seem," the dragon began and tilted her giant head to the side. "That not only do elves confuse wisdom with stubbornness, no, they also appear to mistake stupidity for bravery."

There was an angry, annoyed quality to her words that showed Thranduil she was less than thrilled to see him, yet he felt the tiniest bit of hope when she didn't lash out immediately. Indeed, he was almost positive he had seen a flicker of curiosity in her gaze when he had entered the cave, and it gave him the courage needed to deliver the little speech he had devised on his way to the mountain.

"I might be stubborn," he admitted quietly to the dragon. "But I am not stupid. I realise that I have done wrong in offending you, and I also know that it doesn't do to slight a mighty dragon such as you are. I have come here in the hope you'd allow me to apologise, and also to offer you this as a sign of my sincerity." With this, he heaved the dead buck of his shoulder and slowly, keeping a watchful eye on the dragon, put it down in front of her.

Her massive head came swinging forwards, and Thranduil took a couple of hasty steps back. Nervously he watched as the serpent eyed the stag for a good while, then fixed her burning gaze on him. "You shot it yourself?" she asked, sounding amused for some reason. Thranduil nodded, a pained frown tugging at his lips. "I did," he admitted. "Just by the river banks north of these mountains." "And you lugged it all the way back to me." He inclined his head once more.

The dragon hummed thoughtfully. "I have reached a decision," she proclaimed after a minute of silence. "I know how dear your people hold every living thing." Thranduil held his breath. Her cruel red eyes stared at him unwaveringly as she continued, "Which is why I will not eat it." "But then it will have died for nothing!" Thranduil protested, unable to keep his tongue in check. "I know," the dragon hummed, and before the elf could react she had snatched up the dead deer and flung it high into the air. There was a low rumble, then her throat lit up, and a blinding ball of fire erupted from between her massive jaws.

Thranduil stood frozen as the air around him filled with the pungent stench of sulphur and burned flesh. All around him smouldering pieces of what had once been a beautiful animal rained down to litter the cave floor, and he realised that this was her way of slighting him and showing how little she cared. At the same time, in a sudden moment of clarity he understood that she was toying with him, testing how far she could push him before he snapped.

So he swallowed his pride and reined in his temper, instead inclining his head to show he accepted her decision. "Does this mean you won't accept my apologies?" he asked quietly and only looked up when the dragon huffed in annoyance. "No, I believe I will accept it."

"Alright then," Thranduil nodded, then met her gaze squarely. "Maybe we should start over again. Would you be willing to grant me a second chance?" She growled and clicked her teeth in aggravation. "In all my life, I have only met one person as annoying and persistent as you, little flea. Have your chance, if you so wish."

There were not enough words to describe the weight that was lifted of Thranduil's shoulders. Finally he would be able to set things right. "Thank you," he said quietly, then shot her a somewhat strained smile and bowed lightly at the waist.

"My name is Thranduil of Greenwood the Great. I serve Oropher, the great king of the Silvan Elves. May I ask your name?"

Clearly amused, the dragon huffed, then inclined her head gracefully. "I am Vahrii, of the great planes of the north. The Withered Heath is where I was hatched and I serve no one but myself." Lowering her head so their eyes were roughly on the same height, she asked, "What is this odd look you're giving me, little flea?"

"Your name," Thranduil answered, unsure of what to say. "I expected something far more... sinister." Huffing in annoyance, Vahrii drew back and glared sharply at him. "What, is my name not good enough for your sensitive elven ears?" she hissed, but Thranduil was quick to pacify her. "No, not at all!" he exclaimed. "I am merely surprised at how pretty it is. I - I rather like it."

Appearing somewhat mollified, Vahrii lowered herself back to the ground. With a quiet huff, she rested her head on the ground and stretched, settling into a more comfortable position. Thranduil wondered whether it was an unconscious movement or if it was a part of her plan in trying to deceive him. "Sit down." He complied after picking a spot that was free of anything that would have belonged to the burned deer. "You look like a drowned rat," she stated dryly and he inclined his head. "The weather," he replied, and the dragon snorted. Little flames shot forth from her nostrils, and for a moment drove back the cold.

"I have neither lungs nor chest, yet I need air," she began after a silence during which neither of them made an effort at conversation. Thranduil looked at her with a furrowed brow. Unbothered by his confusion, the dragon went on. "I am not alive, yet I grow and can even die, I have no mouth and don't drink water."

"I am sorry," he began, searching her gaze. "I am not sure I understand."

Flicking the tip of her tail impatiently, Vahrii breathed a little cloud of smoke. "It is a riddle, _**malfahliil**_. Go ahead and solve it."

Thranduil threw her a disbelieving look, but she appeared to be entirely serious and so he gave in, all the while pondering over her motives. Would he gain something if he solved the riddle? Was this a silent challenge or was she merely jesting?

And, more importantly – what would he lose if he didn't succeed?

"I have neither lungs nor chest, yet I need air," he mumbled quietly, eyes fixed on the grey stonewall behind her. His heart was beating fast. He didn't know where he was headed and felt as if someone had blindfolded him, ordering him to jump forward. He could land on his feet or fall down a cliff; there was no way of knowing. So far Vahrii had seemed to have reacted well to his apology, but who knew if she truly had forgiven him?

"I grow and can even die... Maybe a tree? But no, that would make no sense. Hmm... I am not alive.. No water.."

He would have to trust her on this one, despite his reluctance to do so.

Vahrii let out a puff of air, accompanied by a small cloud of smoke. His eyes absently following its trail upwards, Thranduil wrecked his brain for a solution. It had to be something obvious, something... The last remnants of smoke disappeared. His face void of any expression, the elf inclined his head. "The solution is fire."

Holding his breath, he waited. When nothing happened, he looked up, half expecting the dragon to lash out at him.

"Very good, little elf," Vahrii rumbled, closing her eyes. "Now it is your turn."

Thranduil almost laughed at the sudden feeling of relief that overcame him when the tension seeped out of him, leaving him slightly dizzy.

"I am afraid I am not very skilled when it comes to riddles," he stated while stretching his cramped legs. "But I will try my best."

She hummed. "I expect no less of you. Although, if we are to play a game of riddles, we really should set a price. One truthfully answered question for each correct answer. Does that seem agreeable to you?"

Thranduil hesitated, then nodded. He could only hope the dragon wouldn't ask questions that were all too delicate in nature. If she truly was a spy of Sauron and asked for information he couldn't give, he would be in deep trouble indeed.

He thought for a little while before finally deciding. "I'm right behind you, creep on the ground, follow you home, do not make a sound. What am I?"

"That's easy," Vahrii huffed. "The answer is shadow. Is this the best you can do?"

Her intense gaze fixed on his face, she clicked her teeth meaningfully, and emitted a cloud of smoke. A terrible, scratching noise filled the cave, and it took Thranduil a moment to figure out she was sharpening her claws by dragging them over the stone floor.

He stared at her, his expression blank, highly concerned. It took him a great amount of willpower not to fidget at the sight of her razor sharp talons that were protruding from the joints of her wings and which she now licked slowly. She almost appeared like a giant cat, although much more dangerous.

Thranduil could not keep himself from staring. Her tongue was long and black, and it looked almost as if it had barbs running down the sidelines. Everything, from sharp teeth down to the spiked tail, made this dragon a walking weapon, able to bring destruction and death. He felt new determination rise in his chest. He had to drive her out of the Greenwood, and he would do so. For the sake of his people.

"No. And thus, you have asked your first question."

The dragon stared at him, hard, then all of a sudden broke out in rumbling laughter that had the cave shaking. "You are smart, little flea."

Her reaction was encouraging, and with newfound resolve, Thranduil straightened his back and inclined his head. "One more."

"Very well, _**malfahliil**_" Vahrii agreed. "But this time, I expect better."

Losing no time, Thranduil entwined his fingers and, eyes closed, started reciting.

"Made of ten but two we make, when assembled others quake, five apart and we are weak, five together havoc wreak."

For some minutes, it was quiet and the only thing that could be heard was Vahrii's slow breathing. "Hmm... I don't know this riddle."

Thranduil couldn't keep the corners of his lips from tugging upwards. Should he indeed be able to pose a challenge for the dragon?

Cracking open one red eye, Vahrii shot him a lazy look, shattering all of his satisfaction within a mere second. "But assuming from the way you hold yourself and your clasped fingers, I guess the answer is 'fists'?"

He nodded hesitantly. "This one was more difficult," she admitted. "Although still too easy."

"I am sure you can do better," Thranduil stated in a mocking tone, involuntarily responding to her taunting. He immediately bit his tongue. The dragon bristled, rising to the challenge.

"Of course I can! Stupid elfling. But first my question." Her tail swished back and forth agitatedly as she watched him, her eyes blazing. He wondered if he had maybe crossed a line he knew nothing about. He clenched his fists nervously.

"How old are you?"

Thranduil blinked. Staring at the dragon, it took him a second to process the innocent nature of her question. "I am three and a half millennia old," he said slowly, still trying to wrap his head around how she could have wasted such an opportunity. Vahrii only nodded and then continued their game of riddles, ignoring his confusion completely.

"If you look, you can't see me. If you see me, you cannot see anything else. I can make you walk if you can't. Sometimes I speak the truth, and sometimes I lie. If I lie, I am nearer the truth. What am I?"

Still thrown off course by her behaviour, Thranduil raised a slender finger and said, "Give me a moment."

The dragon chuckled, the sound close to a growl.

"As long as you wish, little one," she rumbled, her voice so low he could feel the vibrations run through his bones. She bared her teeth at him in a horrid grin. "I have time."

* * *

It turned out Vahrii couldn't possibly be less interested in delicate matters as he had feared. As time passed by, with each solved riddle she asked about his interests, how he kept his hair so shiny, what his preferred diet included, and where in Middle Earth he would like to go if given the chance. To his surprise, Thranduil discovered that with her quick wit and dry humour she made for a really good conversational partner, if she wasn't threatening to end his life, that was.

Carefully trying to sound out her boundaries of what she would consider an acceptable question and which ones would be too straightforward, Thranduil asked about her home, her favourite stories, what she liked and what she didn't, and also if picking bits of armour from beneath her teeth annoyed her. When at one point he asked how flying felt, she left him entirely puzzled by simply answering with a very sincere, "Like freedom."

After that, it was her turn again and the dragon wasted no time at all. "I have lots to say but cannot speak, and knowledge is the thing I eat. I've hidden treasures beneath my dress, and often my body puts you to rest. For all that wish to visit me, your knowing hands are the ultimate key."

Thranduil blinked. "Is it... a book?" he asked hesitantly. Vahrii huffed in amusement. "Very good, little flea. Most people go for a different solution altogether, because of the second part." "I can only imagine," the elf murmured, then straightened his back and took a deep breath.

"Now, here my question." Bracing himself, he met Vahrii's eyes squarely, fighting back the waves of fear and nervousness.

"Why are you here?"

* * *

_Hello everybody! _

_Finally the dragon is back! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did._

_I was able to use bits and pieces from the original chapter, so maybe some part seem familiar to you._

_Thanks to my beta for putting up with me!_

_See you next time. Cheers,_

_planless_


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

* * *

He needn't have worried. Vahrii didn't seem the slightest bit aggravated by his question and only blinked lazily at him when she answered.

"Because it smelled of dwarf."

Confused, Thranduil cocked his head. "What do you mean?" he asked. "There are no dwarves here." Vahrii only raised her shoulders in a massive shrug and yawned.

"Well, I haven't really seen any, either, but the scent was most definitely there and so I decided to delay my travels. I had hoped to eventually catch one of them and so dug out this cave to wait, seen as dwarves prefer stone over anything else and this would be the most likely place to find them."

"Did they show?" Thranduil asked, just as curious as he was confused. Vahrii yawned once more, then clicked her teeth. "No. Instead, all I got was a nosy blond elf who showed up and refused to leave me alone." At this, he couldn't help the small smile that tugged the corners of his lips upwards ever so slightly. The dragon blew a smoke ring at him, then posed her next riddle. Thranduil thought hard, but eventually had to concede defeat. Instead, he came up with one of his own in order to keep Vahrii amused.

"I touch the earth, I touch the sky," he said. "But if I touch you, you'll surely die."

Humming thoughtfully, the dragon tapped her tail lightly against the ground. "As much as I would love to say _dragon_, I do believe the answer is lightning." Thranduil nodded.

"Hardly a challenge," Vahrii rumbled. "Seen as I have already heard this one before. Now my question." Fixing the gaze of her red eyes on him, she stared at the elf. All of a sudden, Thranduil felt incredibly nervous.

"Were you sent here to spy on me?"

* * *

Thranduil's heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The blunt question had taken him by utter surprise and he was left berating himself for dropping his guard around the dragon.

The tapping of Vahrii's tail tip changed from lazy to impatient, prompting the elf to answer the question. "I was _not_ sent to spy on you, Lady Vahrii," he eventually explained cautiously. "I was sent to scout and, if possible, negotiate."

There was a pregnant pause, and finally Vahrii started chuckling. Indignation flaring to life and drowning out his fear, Thranduil glared at her angrily.

"Little flea, you don't make for a very good negotiator," the dragon chortled when she noticed his displeasure, her whole body shaking with suppressed laughter. "You are far too easy to rile up."

"Well, what a relief I'm not the only one with a hot temper around here," Thranduil shot back, half accusing, half mocking. This only seemed to amuse Vahrii even more.

"You are funny, _**malfahliil**_," she chuckled, and bared her teeth at him in a horrid mockery of a grin. "I think I shall keep you around for a little longer. Although you will tell your king that no amount of gold will persuade me to leave."

At her words, Thranduil's anger drained from his body like water from a porous bucket.

"Do you intend to hurt my people?" he asked quietly, not meeting the dragon's eye for fear of what he would find there. There was another pause, and for a while they sat in silence that weighed heavily upon Thranduil's heart. Finally, Vahrii spoke up, her voice a low rumble.

"I feel no desire to leave this cave any time soon."

She didn't add anything more. It wasn't a promise, but neither was it a threat, so it would have to do for now. Suddenly feeling very tired, Thranduil rose from his sitting position on the floor and bowed stiffly before the dragon.

"I will relay your words to my king," he said, then looked up to meet her gaze. "With your permission, I shall take my leave now."

Vahrii nodded regally. "I will expect you back," she said, and with that Thranduil turned around and left the darkness of the cave.

* * *

"**Vahrii**."

The word rolled off Oropher's tongue. Closing his bright blue eyes, the Elven King let out a small sigh, some of the tension seeping from his shoulders. "So you finally did find out her name," he addressed his son, who nodded. "That is a relief. I always find problems a little less intimidating once you name them." Inclining his head into Thranduil's direction, he added, "It also shows she is not entirely unwilling to enter negotiations."

"Yes, concerning negotiations," the younger elf began, steeling himself. "She also gave me a message for you." Instantly, the tension was back in Oropher's shoulders and he sat up straight, his back a rigid line. "So let us hear it," he said slowly, eyes trained on his son's face.

"She said that no amount of gold you offer could possibly persuade her to leave."

Oropher blinked, once, twice, then let out a shallow breath and sat back in his chair. "So negotiations are impossible? Surely there has to be another way," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Thranduil cocked his head curiously. "You are taking this far better than I expected, father," he confessed. Oropher smiled thinly. "Well, I have to admit this comes not entirely as a surprise. After all, what dragon would leave its hoard to roam the lands? There are no riches to be found in the Great Woods. No, I always suspected her to be somewhat different. After all, even we have one or two amongst us who sport the odd quirk."

He shot Thranduil a meaningful glance, and the prince had to think of Beleg and his many siblings. "Yes, there are some who are special in their very own way," he admitted fondly.

Oropher chuckled. "I have been told that Beleg's older brother has roamed the planes of Middle-earth in solitude for many years. While it was not entirely uncommon back in the day, it is not found as often anymore." Thranduil nodded. Yes, he could picture Thúviel ranging the wilderness in travel-worn attire quite easily.

"So, about Vahrii," Oropher continued, sobering up quickly. "Were you able to find out why she is here?"

So Thranduil told him all. About the stag he had brought her as a means of showing his good will - he wisely left out the part where he had angered her previously -, the game of riddles they had played, the questions she had asked, and the dwarf she had mentioned.

From his father's expression he saw that the king was just as clueless as him.

"Curious," was all Oropher said. "I shall talk to Thúviel on the matter concerning the dwarf. Now, about your dragon -"

Thranduil sputtered, taken by surprise at his father's words. "It is not _my _dragon," he insisted deftly. "In fact, I would very much prefer if I never had to see her again." "Unfortunately, that is not an option," Oropher answered, "But you are right. This is not a laughing matter. Forgive me."

Thranduil inclined his head mutely and watched as his father tapped his finger lightly against his jaw, deep in thought. "It would appear that this dragon is a rather - _special_ one. Her species is known for its cunning and love for deception, whereas she appears genuinely curious." "We don't know if it is truly _genuine,_" Thranduil countered. "It could just as well be part of an elaborate plot to ensnare her enemies."

"Hmm..." The noncommittal sound didn't do anything to enlighten Thranduil on how his father thought about the matter . He was about to ask, when Oropher straightened in his seat once more. "I have something else to request of you, Thranduil," he began, but smiled when he saw the wary look on his son's face. "Nothing major, I assure you. I am simply asking you to not leave the safety of Amon Lanc alone anymore."

Thranduil frowned. "So you wish for me to take a guard? Why?" "Sauron's minions have grown bold over the years," Oropher replied gravely. "We have received reports of them being sighted at the southern outskirts of the forest." "They would not dare enter our realm," Thranduil protested. His father shook his head. "Not just yet," he said slowly. "But there will be a day when their fear will wane. I do not wish to see you fall victim to their blades. So, please indulge your worried father."

Feeling nothing but unwilling, Thranduil nodded reluctantly. "Very well. I suppose you have someone in mind already?" Brightening at his son's acceptance, Oropher inclined his head. "You know me too well. I have assigned Sidhel of the royal guard to be your companion for the time being. She has been relieved of all duties until further notice - do you know her?" he asked suddenly when he saw Thranduil's thoughtful expression.

"I do," the prince replied. "She is a skilled swordsman and very reliable. But why can't I take Beleg with me?" Raising one eyebrow, Oropher lifted his hand and began ticking off reasons. "I know that your friend is loyal to a fault and brave without boundaries, Thranduil," he began. "But it is also true that he has a very loose tongue. And while bravery surely is a trait to be admired, in his case more often than not it turns into recklessness. We can't risk him endangering the both of you, or anyone else knowing about the dragon. They would demand the dragon gone, and possibly set out to kill her." His eyes were concerned when he met his son's gaze. "Needless to say she would tear down everything in her anger. We cannot afford to lose a single elf, especially with the upcoming battle."

"Beleg wouldn't do that," Thranduil defended his friend, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. True enough, while he trusted Beleg with everything he had, the other elf's behaviour had seen them in trouble on more than one occasion. "Very well, I shall take Sidhel with me." Oropher nodded, pleased with his son's decision. Thranduil was getting ready to leave, when he remembered something.

"_Adar,_ have you told her about the dragon?"

"I thought you could brief her on the way."

When Thranduil shot his father a disbelieving look, the king at least had the grace to appear _somewhat_ guilty.

* * *

The following days passed far too fast for Thranduil's liking. He mostly spent them on the training fields with Beleg, honing his skills with the sword and, on his friend's insistence, the crossbow. When they weren't training, he generally took to reading or strolling around the palace with Beleg, enjoying the peace of the daily bustle that was life at the palace. Where usually his father would rope him into minor and very dull administrative activities, he now left him free rein. _At least one good thing has come of this dragon_, Thranduil pondered dryly, but snapped out of his thoughts when Beleg grabbed a hold of his sleeve, dragging him across the courtyard. "Sirhael!" he exclaimed, waving his free hand cheerily. True enough, the ostler was there, dressed in a loose pair of trousers that were tied below the knees and a flowing white shirt that hid her willowy figure. "You don't look like you're working," Beleg stated as ways of greeting once they had reached the waiting elf. Sirhael shook her head. "not today." "So," Beleg drawled before she could add anything more, rubbing his hands together. "Since you're free, would you care to join Thranduil and me for a little spar?"

Raising one eyebrow in a perfect arch just as Thranduil let out a small sigh, Sirhael asked, "I've heard you two have been training a lot lately. Aren't you fed up with it by now?" Letting out a disdainful huff, Beleg waved her words away. "Please. There is always room for sending Thranduil sprawling into the dirt." "Oh really," the prince said, a little frown on his head. "I believe the last to hit the ground was you, not me." Sirhael chuckled. Rounding on his friend, Beleg proclaimed haughtily, "And it is time to remedy that. So, Sirhael, are you joining?"

Eyes still shining with mirth, the ostler met Thranduil's gaze who nodded. "Oh well," she laughed and shrugged. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

* * *

Hey everyone!

Here is this weeks chapter. Thanks to my beta for proofreading it, I know you've got a lot going on right now. :)

I truly enjoyed this chapter, for whatever reason. Hope you did, as well!

See you next Friday.

Love,

planless


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

* * *

"What weapons will we use?" Thranduil asked once they reached the training fields. Beleg shrugged. "In favour of saving us this particular discussion, I propose we draw straws." "Do you have any?" Sirhael inquired, and the other elf raised an eyebrow at her. "Why, you are the ostler here. Check your hair." Instantly, Sirhael's hand shot up to thread through her golden mane. "You!" she exclaimed the moment she realised he had been teasing her. Beleg only laughed and brought up a hand in which he held three straws that were seemingly the same length. "I love pulling your leg," he grinned. The only answer he got was a dark glare.

* * *

In the end, it was Beleg who got to choose their weapons, and of course he settled on the sword. "You only pick it because you know you'd lose at everything else," Sirhael clamoured teasingly from the sidelines as she watched Beleg and Thranduil carry out their first duel. "Please, Sirhael," the brown haired elf managed between two blows. "You hurt my feelings."

"Well, it's true," she pondered loudly and crossed her arms. "Thranduil would send you packing with the lance, and when it comes to daggers I am faster than you could ever hope to be."

"That is a blatant lie," Beleg shot back and, with a quick flick of his wrist, disarmed Thranduil in one smooth movement. He pointed the tip of his sword at the other elf's throat for a moment, then took a step back and shot Sirhael a challenging glare. "Why don't you join us, and we'll see who can hold their ground the longest." The ostler rolled her eyes but picked up her weapon nonetheless. "Do you have to turn everything into a competition?" she asked as Thranduil went to retrieve his fallen sword. "Not everything," Beleg admitted with a wide grin. "But most things."

His opening blow was sudden and swift, and Sirhael only barely managed to parry it. She followed with an immediate riposte which Beleg batted aside easily. The movement left her wide open for his next attack, but before he had a chance to act Thranduil moved in from the side, aiming for the other elf's wrist. He dodged it gracefully and ducked under Sirhael's blade when she attacked from the other direction. Instead, now the prince and ostler crossed swords, engaging in a flurry of attacks until Beleg swung his weapon in a low arc, aiming for Thranduil's calves. The blond elf jumped out of the way easily, breaking away from Sirhael for a moment, who now turned towards his best friend and drew him into a furious duel.

What had started as three opponents fighting each other quickly turned into both Sindar raining down blows on Beleg, and when they finally managed to disarm him all of them were gasping for breath.

"You hold yourself exceptionally well," Sirhael stated, clearly impressed, and he grinned at her. "Well, I _am_ an exceptional swordsman," he shot back. Thranduil shook his head. "Your humbleness surprises me time and again, Beleg," he said dryly. The other elf waved his words aside. "I try my best." "Indeed, so you do" the prince answered with a raised brow. "How about we try the lance this time?"

"You two go ahead," Beleg said and stepped aside, sheathing his sword. "I need a break." "I would be up for it," Sirhael offered, and Thranduil nodded.

* * *

"Now, this has been a delightful afternoon," Beleg exclaimed happily once they had stowed away their weapons. "And it would be a shame to end it so abruptly. What do you say? Tonight, we escape the palace and roam the wilderness!" Sirhael laughed and shook her head at his dramatic antics. "I am glad you did not turn out to be a bard, Beleg," she said and chuckled. "Your work would have proven to be quite mediocre." "I'll have you know that I have quite a way with words, my friend," the other elf protested, sounding affronted.

"Where did you want to go tonight?" Thranduil interrupted, cutting off their friendly banter. Beleg perked up at this. "Oh, I know just the place!"

* * *

Night was already falling when Thranduil knocked at the door to his friend's quarters. The door opened to reveal an elf that looked very much like Sirhael - the same blue eyes, the same golden blonde hair - but her face was a little less clear-cut, and also a bit older. "Prince Thranduil," the woman greeted pleasantly, if a little surprised. "I assume you've come to meet Sirhael?" He nodded after returning the greeting. "I am afraid you will have to wait a bit longer - my daughter doesn't appear to be ready just yet. But why don't you come in?"

"Thank you, Lady Glendil," he smiled when she moved aside so he could enter. Leading him through the rooms he knew oh so well to the kitchen, she asked, "Would you care for some tea? Summer has begun to fade and the nights are quite cold already." "I would, actually, thank you," Thranduil agreed and took a seat at the table. Just as Glendil picked up the kettle and filled it with water, the door swung open once more and Sirhael entered the kitchen. "Thranduil," she smiled, surprised at seeing him, then suspiciously glanced back and forth between him and her mother. "Have you once again been spreading lies about my tardiness, mother?" she asked. Thranduil held back a smile at how correct her guess was. "I have merely offered the prince some refreshments," Glendil answered, raising an eyebrow at her daughter. "After all, there is always time for a good cup of tea."

Sirhael narrowed her eyes, looking at both elves speculatively, before shrugging her shoulders and sitting down next to Thranduil. "I suppose there is," she allowed regally, and he couldn't stop the fond smile that spread over his face at their banter.

"It has been quite some time since I last saw you, Lord Thranduil," Glendil said while they waited for the water to boil. "If you don't mind me asking, how have you been?" They fell into the conversation easily, and Sirhael listened to them while slowly braiding her hair. By the time she finished, the tea was ready as well and Glendil served them all a cup. Thranduil answered all of her questions patiently, indulging her curiosity, and because he did most of the talking he completely forgot to drink his tea. When he finally remembered and moved to take a sip, it had gone cold. Sirhael, who had finished hers quite a while ago, laughed and took that as their cue to go. "Come on," she said and pulled him to his feet by his hand. "Beleg will be waiting."

"Thank you for the tea, Lady Glendil," Thranduil said and nodded at the older elf. She waved away his thanks. "Please, don't mention it. You barely had any." "That's because you kept him talking," Sirhael scolded gently. Her mother only smiled. "Go, you both. Don't keep your friend waiting." Just as they were about to leave the kitchen, she added, "You should stop by again more often, Lord Thranduil, like you used to when you were younger." "I'll try," he promised, then let himself be pulled out the door.

* * *

When they reached the outer wall, Beleg was already waiting for them. "And here I thought you'd never show," he greeted them, then dragged them out the gates and into the forest without any further ado. Unerringly, he led them through the thicket and down to the river that sprung up just southwest of Amon Lanc, only to disappear again east of it. They crossed it at a stony ford, Beleg mindful of the bag he had slung across one shoulder, and trudged on through the rapidly darkening forest, bickering and bantering all the way, and Thranduil felt happier than he had in a long while. They finally stopped at the outskirts of a large clearing, and Sirhael almost squealed in delight. The vast expanse before them was covered in soft grass and hundreds of night blooming flowers, their petals a rich blue colour that almost seemed to reflect the moonlight from above. Seemingly endless numbers of fireflies swarmed through the air, their lights tiny spots of gold against the lingering darkness. "It is beautiful," Sirhael breathed and started forward, her eyes following the millions of dancing dots. Thranduil watched as she laughed in delight when they settled on her outstretched hands, only to take off again the next minute, and he felt a sudden wave of fondness for her and the elf next to him.

"You look happy," Beleg stated suddenly, and when Thranduil turned to face him. The other elf was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. "I am," he admitted quietly. "I like seeing Sirhael happy." Beleg nodded, as if to show he understood, and glanced over to where the ostler was standing amidst the flowers. "As do I," he admitted quietly. "In a way, she is like the little sister I never had."

Thranduil raised a brow and nudged his best friend in the side. "You have four older siblings, three of them are formidable women. Surely that is enough?" "That's not the same," Beleg defended himself. "Younger siblings are different. You care for them in a different way than you do for older ones."

"You're like a mother hen," Thranduil stated dryly and held back a laugh when Beleg puffed up. "Look at you," he continued accusingly before the other elf could say anything, and pointed at the bag slung across Beleg's shoulder. "You even packed provisions so we wouldn't go hungry."

The brown haired elf narrowed his eyes. "You'd do well to keep quiet, my friend, otherwise tonight you'll go very hungry indeed," he shot back, then walked over to where Sirhael was sitting amidst the flowers. "Come on, I didn't lug this bag all the way out here just for the sake of it."

Shaking his head, Thranduil quietly followed his friend, lost in thought. There was a sudden ache inside his chest, a deep yearning for something he'd never really thought upon before, but Beleg's words had touched something in his heart and now he wondered. What would it be like having a family? Granted, his father did everything he could to see him happy, and Thranduil had never wanted for anything, and yet - what would his life be like if his mother had not been lost all those years ago? Maybe he would have siblings, like Beleg did. Or maybe he would be less proud, and instead more gentle and indulging like Sirhael. Both of them had grown up with a mother, and there was something about them, a hidden quality of love and tenderness that drew him to them like a moth to a flame.

"It's strange," Sirhael said as ways of greeting when they sat down next to her. "I have lived in this forest for so long, but I've never been to this place before." Her low words broke Thranduil out of his sombre musings and he shook his head in an attempt to clear away the dark thoughts. "It is a well guarded family secret," Beleg explained ominously, mirth shining in his eyes as he pulled his bag onto his lap. "But since you two are practically family, I have decided to let you in on it anyway."

"How very gracious of you," Sirhael muttered drily. She eyed his luggage curiously. "What's in there?" she asked, and Beleg grinned. "I am glad you asked!" he exclaimed, and with an exaggerated flourish produced a bottle of wine and a satchel filled to the brim with something he seemed to be especially proud of. "Iorphen's honey-dried fruit," he explained in a triumphant voice and popped one of the berries into his mouth. "You have no idea how much time it took me to rope him into giving me these."

"Oh, I can imagine," Sirhael chirped lightly as she snatched the bottle from Beleg's lap. "Seen as you cause disruption in his kitchen every time you so much as set a foot in it." "That's not fair," the other elf complained, a hurt look on his face. "It doesn't happen _every_ time."

With a small huff that seemed highly inappropriate for a lady, Sirhael opened the wine and lifted it in mockery of a toast. "To a friendship that will last 'til the end of all days," Beleg proclaimed dramatically, and, when she took her first sip, added, "And maybe more wine, if I have any with me."

Thranduil chuckled at this. Ignoring Beleg's exasperation at being passed over, he accepted the bottle from Sirhael when she held it out to him and took a deep swig. The bittersweet liquid helped to chase away the last dark thoughts that were lurking around in his head, and soon after the three elves were laughing merrily without a care in the world.

* * *

Thranduil let out a quiet sigh as he watched the stars high above them, just as Sirhael whispered, "I wish it could be like this forever." There was a wistfulness in her words that hadn't been there just moments ago, and it tugged at his heart painfully.

Flipping over onto his stomach, Beleg propped himself up on his elbows and looked down on her. "What do you mean? Of course it's going to stay like this," he said, and it sounded so firm and utterly convinced that Thranduil almost believed him. Almost.

"We don't know how many will make it back home," Sirhael muttered after a moment of silence. "Sirhael," Thranduil chided gently and sat up so he could face both his friends. "Let's not talk of this now. Let the future not ruin this moment."

"You're right," she whispered, drawing herself up so she was kneeling in the grass. She reached out her hands towards her friends and they accepted the silent prompt. Interlacing his fingers with hers in an all too familiar gesture, Thranduil offered his free hand to Beleg. Just as the other elf took it, completing their circle, Sirhael added in a low voice, "Though I really do wish things would never change."

In the silvery moonlight, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and for the very first time, it occurred to Thranduil that there were those who were not cut out to go to war. Those who might not come back. Suddenly, he realised that Sirhael, gentle, loving, quick-witted Sirhael, might be right to be afraid, and he tightened his grip on her hand, determined to prove her wrong.

He would keep them safe.

* * *

_Hello there!_

_I know that this update is hella late, and it's also hella unbeta-d because I didn't wanna trouble my beta with it, so please bear with any typos you find. I do look over my uploaded work occasionally and correct any mistake I find, but it takes a while to get everything. This is kind of a filler to prep you guys for what will eventually happen (or maybe not? We don't know! That is to say, I do, but you don't.) So, I hope you like it. Enjoy the story while it's still light and fluffy._

_I'll try to get the next chapter up next Friday, but for some reason university is keeping me really busy, even though I'm not doing anything..._

_See you guys!  
Cheers,_

_planless_


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